Missing
by boswifedeb
Summary: While in Texas to work on the fall roundup, Matt takes a case for Ben and Marcy Devereux whose daughter went missing when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. His investigation leads to an attempt on his life and most surprisingly to a new job offer. **Immediately follows "On the Rocks"** Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

"**Missing"**

****Immediately follows "On the Rocks"****

"**The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing,  
>and should be treated with caution."<br>- J. K. Rowling **

**CHAPTER 1**

The G-550 touched down on the runway at the William P. Hobby Airport in Houston, Texas and taxied to the hangar where ranch foreman Marty Hoffmann waited. In a couple of minutes the engines of the plane were shut down, the steps lowered, and the Houston family emerged. With a big smile on his face the cowboy went to help the group which now included the four week old twin boys that Matt and CJ Houston had welcomed into the world as well as big sister Catey Rose who squealed with delight as she saw Marty. "Go get him, Lady Bug." Houston set his daughter down on the tarmac and reached for a car seat containing one of the boys as CJ stepped out with the other. Nanny Sheila Wentworth followed juggling three diaper bags as Tilly the half Husky – half Blue Heeler ran to catch up with Catey.

Sweeping the now almost twenty month old up in his arms, Marty received a big hug as the assault on his ears began. His boss had warned him the day before that Catey would do her best to talk his ears off.

"Easy now, Catey." Houston rolled his eyes. "I told ya so."

"You weren't lyin'." The foreman laughed. "Lemme get a look at those boys." He leaned over the pair and got a serious look on his face. "CJ, I'm real sorry, hon; they look just like their daddy."

"They act like him, too – especially when they get hungry." The lawyer handed the boys to Matt as he snapped the car seats into place.

"Alright, Lady Bug – your turn." He scooped up the little girl, giving her a kiss as he strapped her into her own seat. "Might have to go back to using a limo."

"Or we could just modify a cattle trailer." Marty winked at Sheila as they began moving luggage from the plane to the SUV. As he and Matt piled the last of it into the back he spoke again. "How's Tomás doing?"

"Real good. I talked to him last night." Houston was proud of their adopted son who was now sixteen years old and away at a private school near San Francisco.

As they drove along, Catey began chattering once again and by the time they reached the ranch all of the adults were tired from laughing as she told her little brothers all about Texas. Once they had a quiet moment alone after getting the kids in the house and situated, Marty spoke to his boss. "I know that you're planning on working cattle while you're here, Houston – but I think you need to talk to Ben and his wife."

A look of surprise crossed Matt's face. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing work related. I think they might need some help."

"Oh, okay." He looked out to where the man was working on finishing up the bunkhouse along with his wife. Going into the den he whispered something to CJ, gave her a kiss, and walked back to Marty. "Let's go." Together they walked down to the bunkhouse that was nearly finished. "Y'all have sure got this place lookin' good." Both of the Devereuxs put down their paint brushes.

"Thanks." Ben wiped his hands on a rag before shaking with his boss. "Houston, this is my wife Marcy."

"Nice to meet ya, Miss Marcy."

"Pleased to meet you." She gave him a shy smile.

"Want to go in and take look around?" Ben put the top on the can of paint.

"Sure." Matt followed them inside and walked through the new structure. All that was lacking on the inside was the finishing touches of paint. "Looks great. Once the inspectors quit dragging their feet this place came together quick."

"Ben, why don't you tell Houston what you told me the other day?" The foreman stepped out onto the front porch with the others.

"Uh..." The man looked down, then at his wife. "Well..."

"Why don't we go up to the house and get a drink?" Matt led the way back up and into the kitchen after settling down at the table with a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies. He looked across at the Devereuxs. "Now – what's going on?"

"I uh...well, I'm not sure where to start."

Taking a cookie off of the plate, the PI pushed it across to Ben and his wife. "The beginning is usually a good place."

"Our daughter Rachel..." Digging out his wallet, the man removed a picture of a beautiful young lady with blonde hair and piercingly blue eyes. Her smile matched that of another girl in the photo who was strawberry blonde and appeared to be a few years younger. "She's the one on the right there."

"Beautiful...both of 'em." Matt continued to look at the picture.

"The other one is our youngest – Cassie. She's a staff sergeant in the Air Force now. Anyway..." He paused and looked at his wife who nodded her encouragement. "Well, back in 2005 Rachel was finishing up her senior year at Southern University in New Orleans. She was a smart girl – always had good grades, never in trouble..." Taking a sip of his coffee he seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "See, she was graduating early. When she was in high school she had what they call a dual enrollment."

"Taking high school and college classes at the same time." Houston nodded.

"Yeah, well she was due to graduate in December. Some friends of ours went to New Orleans for a wedding and the men...well, the bachelor party ended up in a strip club. And our friend saw Rachel there." He stopped.

"She was working there?" Matt watched as the couple exchanged a look and then nodded.

"Mr. Houston, she wasn't raised like that." Marcy had tears in her eyes.

"First off – just call me Houston, okay?" He watched as she nodded. "And second..." He paused. "A lot of kids work their way through school like that."

"Rachel was on a scholarship." Ben looked across at his boss. "It paid tuition, books, and board."

"But she had other expenses." He looked up as CJ entered followed by Sheila, each carrying one of the boys.

"Sorry to interrupt." She headed for the refrigerator. "These guys are hungry – again."

"Here..." Taking Vinnie from Sheila he looked at Marcy. "Miss Marcy, this is my wife CJ." The two smiled and shook hands and then he introduced the nanny. Just then Catey could be heard. "Sheila, we're in the middle of something – think you can head her off at the pass?"

"Sure thing." She disappeared.

"I don't know what Marty has told you, but CJ and I work as a team." The couple looked uncertain. "What's said here stays here."

"But..."Ben shook his head. "We can't hire you, Houston. We hired a private investigator before. There's just no money for it."

"You're not hiring me." As CJ handed him a bottle that had just been warmed she sat down next to Marty. Matt began feeding the baby who almost attacked the bottle. "Vinnie, calm down, boy."

"Mike isn't any better. I swear." CJ shook her head.

"Anyway..." Matt settled back in the chair with his left ankle propped on his right knee as he supported the baby in his left arm. "You're not hiring me."

"See – I told ya." Marty punched the man in the shoulder.

Finally Marcy found her voice. "But that isn't right."

"I started my agency for the very reason that Marty brought you here. I want to help. Now, she was working as a dancer and..."

"We had a disagreement." Ben looked at the picture. "I told her no daughter of mine was gonna take her clothes off for a living. She uh..." His eyes clouded with tears. "She said that I didn't understand. Anyway, she was going to come home for a visit and we were going to talk. That was August 26th."

"Three days before Katrina hit." CJ wiped Mike's chin.

"We were glad she was coming home but with the hurricane on the way it was even more of a relief." Ben took up the story again. "We heard from her on the 27th; she was going to be leaving later than planned. That was the last time..." He choked up.

"And you don't know what happened to her." Houston shook his head. "I'm sure sorry to hear that. Well..." He looked down at the baby. "Marty, would you hand me a towel, please? I swear feeding these two is about like slopping hogs. Thanks." Wiping the baby's face he looked back up at them. "We'll need to get some information from you to get started."

"I just..." Marcy reached for her husband's hand. "We just need to know."

"We understand." CJ gave her a sad smile. "Not knowing can drive you crazy."

"Vinnie, ease off now." Matt removed the bottle from his son's mouth causing a sucking noise as the air went back inside. As he started to wipe his chin, the cowboy received a mouthful of formula in the face and then a smile from the four week old, causing Marty to start laughing. "Keep on – I'll give him to you for the next diaper change."

"Can't be any worse than shoveling out a barn." The foreman chuckled.

Houston spoke to the Devereuxs again. "I do want y'all to understand something: I can't make any promises."

"We know." Ben watched as his boss put the baby up on his shoulder and gently began patting his back. In a few seconds there was a loud burp.

"That's my boy." Matt smiled then immediately grimaced as Vinnie gave a grunt and proceeded to fill up his diaper. "Okay, Marty."

"Oops! Just remembered I gotta do that thing I didn't do earlier. See ya!" In a flash he was out of the house and headed down the steps, leaving everyone in the kitchen laughing.

"Tell you what..." Houston stood up. "Let me get Vinnie squared away and ..."

"Let's switch." CJ handed over Mike who was still eating. "I'll take care of Vinnie's diaper and then come back for Mike and y'all can work on getting information together."

"Okay." Matt went back to feeding. "I'll need everything you can give me on her: birthday, physical description, Social Security number, address, phone, any roommates or friends that you now about..." He thought for a minute. "And where she worked."

"I've got it in the truck." Ben excused himself and went outside to retrieve the information leaving Marcy alone with Matt.

"If I can ask – who else did you get to investigate?" Setting the bottle on the table he put a drowsy Mike up on his shoulder and began burping him.

"George McSwain."

Nodding, Houston took a sip of the coffee as Ben came back into the kitchen holding a file folder.

"This is everything we've got. It's from the other private investigator that looked into it."

"Miss Marcy told me you hired McSwain."

"Not sure how good he was but it was all we could afford."

"I know him – he's good."

CJ came back in with Sheila who took the now sleeping baby upstairs as she handed Matt a laptop. The PI took the folder that was passed across to him and began reading through it. McSwain had been hired in the fall of 2006 – right at a year after Rachel went missing. The private investigator had traveled to New Orleans and tried to track the young woman down. He had documented each interview and source that he had used in his search but had returned without the Devereuxs' daughter. Matt absentmindedly rubbed at the stubble on his chin. Tapping on the file he looked across at the grief-stricken parents. "McSwain did a thorough job." He saw their faces fall. "But..." Opening the laptop he pulled up a program that he and CJ had put together to organize and analyze information collected during an investigation. "That was in August of 2006. Things were far from back to normal in New Orleans. As much as they have recovered there are still things that will never be the same."

"No offense, Houston – but what can you do that he couldn't?"

"Part of it has to do with the city itself. There is more information available now than then."

"Because the government is back up and running." Marcy looked between CJ and Matt.

"Yes ma'am. Plus more of the people have returned. It could be that someone he needed to contact is there now." He began transferring the information into his system. "But you hired a good man. He did a good job." The group fell silent as he continued to work the keyboard. "One of the first things I'm going to do is talk to him." After entering all of the information into the system, Matt picked up his coffee cup. "Now, on to other things. Y'all have done one heck of a job on the bunkhouse and I want you to know how much I appreciate it."

"We had a good crew to work with, Houston."

"CJ tells me that you've lined out the work on the other ranch house."

"That's going to take a while longer." Devereux had a serious look on his face.

CJ spoke up. "It's needed a lot of work for a long time. But after the work on the house is finished we'll still have the barn to deal with, plus we'll need some pens put up and I've been looking at plans for a training arena. Matt tells me that you grew up on a horse ranch."

"Yes ma'am."

"I did some checking around and it jogged my memory. I remember your dad." She smiled. "Everybody called him Red."

"Yes ma'am." Devereux smiled sadly.

"Y'all had a really good reputation. Now..." Taking a sip of her coffee she continued. "I realize that you're going to be busy with the repairs for a while, but what are your plans after that?"

"I don't have any."

"Would you consider coming to work with us? Now from time to time Marty may need some help over here, too. We've been talking it over and Matt and I have agreed with Marty and Ollie that cooperation between the two ranches is going to be key to our success. We need people who are willing to work both places as needed."

"That's ..." He looked to his wife who seemed as shocked as he did. "Wow! That's the best news we've had in a long time. I'd be more than happy to join you."

"Good!" Looking over at Matt she smiled. "This is really starting to come together." As the words came from her mouth, all four heard a nearby toilet flush and then the sound of cascading water followed by a loud "uh-oh" from Catey. Matt took off down the hallway while CJ cringed and ran after him, leaving the Devereuxs to snicker over their coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Matt was up and moving by 5:00AM the next morning, spending about an hour in the study reading through the file that George McSwain had compiled and doing some preliminary research on the case. He ran a criminal background check on Rachel, not surprised in the least when it came back clean. A check of a database dedicated to reuniting victims of Katrina with their families also came back negative just as he had thought it would. The sheer number of people who were still unaccounted for was appalling. Taking a sip of coffee he thought back to media images of the suffering and destruction that the massive hurricane had inflicted. A familiar voice from the doorway brought him back to the present. "I see you're letting the beard come back." He looked up to see the smiling face of the woman who had raised him from the age of five and went around the desk to give her a hug.

"Did you have a good visit with your sister?" He kissed Madre Rosa's cheek.

"It was wonderful. How are my babies?"

"Thankfully asleep." Grinning, he closed the laptop and picked up his coffee cup, walking to the kitchen with her. "They've finally decided that they only need to get us up at 2:30 now."

"They have healthy appetites; they're going to be big, strong men." She put on an apron as Matt refilled his coffee cup. "And how is Tomás?"

"He's great. He'll be spending his fall break with Paul at the Novellis'. The boys are going to teach him how to surf." Sitting down at the kitchen table he watched as she went about preparing breakfast for not only the Houston family but the four cowboys who were living in the home until the bunkhouse was finished. "I guess it won't be long until you're not cooking for the boys anymore. Then what are you going to do?"

Stopping, she turned to face him. "Maybe the owner of the house will decide to move back home – permanently." She knew that Matt and CJ were working to get both ranches up and running in preparation of moving back when he decided it was time to retire.

Matt stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. "That's gonna be a while yet."

"Can't blame me for trying." She turned back to her work.

Later on, Matt went to the office of George McSwain, located near the corner of Main and Pease. George had been a private investigator since his exit from the military in 1975. He had spent six years as an MP in the Army and had opened the office three weeks after getting back home to Texas. Over the years he and Matt had bumped into each other and the younger man respected his integrity. While many PI's only gave their clients what they wanted to hear, McSwain was honest and told them the truth. As Houston entered the small office he was nearly knocked off his feet by an angry man in a hurry to leave and had it not been for a quick side-step, he would have had the imprint of the door on his side. A muttered curse could be heard from the back room of the office and then a big sigh. "George, you back there?"

The sound of wheels rolling on the floor and a squeak preceded a semi-bald head looking around the door frame and a look of surprise crossed the features of the sixty two year old as he recognized his visitor. "Houston? Damn, boy! What're you doin' here?"

"Almost wearing your door." Pointing over his shoulder he grinned. "What'd you do to him? Tell the truth?"

"That's exactly what I did. Come on in here." He motioned the younger man around the reception desk and shook his hand as he got to the door. "Boy, you've packed on a pound or two." Seeing the blush and smile he laughed. "Heard you and CJ finally came to your senses. Girl can sure enough cook. Come on in here and have a seat."

"Thanks."

"So how's she doin'?" George sat back down in the well-worn leather chair and propped his feet up on the ancient desk.

"Fine – kinda busy though. We've got four kids." Matt's face lit up as he talked about his family.

"Four?! What the hell have you been doin'? I know what you've been doin', but how did you manage to get so many so fast?" He leaned forward and took the phone that was held out to him.

"We cheated – one of 'em is adopted and we had a set of twins." Matt went on to explain and tell a little about the kids.

"Fine lookin' family. And CJ hasn't changed a bit – still a pretty little filly."

"Funny you should say that..." He told about her new ranch that was in the works.

"Son of a gun. And she'll make it work, too. She's a smart one." He leaned back and lit up a cigarette. "So what's goin' on that you've come down here to my lowly little office?"

"I wanted to talk to you about a case you handled back in 2006." After explaining how he knew the Devereuxs, Matt handed the folder across to him that the couple had given him the day before. "Just wondered if there was anything else you might have thought of since that might help me track her down."

McSwain looked through the file as he took a draw. "They're some nice folks. Decent folks. I felt bad that I couldn't find her but even a year after the storm it was still a mess down there. I tried to talk them into waiting a little longer but they were going through hell not knowing if she was dead or alive." He handed the folder back across the desk. "There's really nothing else I can add to that. So many folks are still missing or not identified. It's really hard to believe that in this day and age something like that can still happen but there's the proof right there." After a long drag on the cigarette he changed the subject. "So how's life out in California?"

"Crazy." Both men laughed. "It's pretty good. Got a nice little ranch up in the Santa Monica Mountains – nowhere near the size of the spread down here but it works for getting out and getting a little dust stirred up working cows."

"Guess some things never change."

"So how's your wife doing?" Matt saw the hurt in George's eyes.

"Yvette passed away about a year and half ago – damn cancer."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Funny thing is she wasn't the one who smoked. She was all the time gettin' on to me for it and damned it that ain't what got her." He looked at the burning material in his hand sadly. "Should've been me." With that he put it out in an ashtray that was threatening to overflow. "I hope you didn't make any promises to the Devereuxs."

"No, I told 'em up front that I couldn't promise but I would do my very best."

"That's one thing I like about you. Some of these guys out here..." He shook his head. "Whatever will pay the bills is what they say."

"That's what I always liked about you."

"Tell you what: some of these damn divorce cases can get downright dangerous."

"I won't take them."

"You always were smart. But some of us can't afford to be so picky." Looking at the younger man he pulled out another cigarette and lit it. "There's a rumor going around town...about you carrying a badge."

"Yep, I'm a Detective-Sergeant for the county. Wasn't expecting it."

"Son, I don't think anybody around here was expecting_ that_." Both laughed. "I remember back in the day when you gave the Sheriff's Department a run for their money – literally. Seems like some young buck trying to impress a girl with his pickup jumped Fentress Creek...right over a patrol car." He saw the smile creep across Houston's face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh huh – but your daddy sure did. How bad did he tan your hide?"

"Bad enough." They exploded in laughter.

"You turned out good, though. Glad to see you've settled down. Just be careful out there. New Orleans is a beautiful place – but not all of the people are."

Standing to leave, Matt held out his hand to the man. "Hell, George – it's like that all over."

Once back at the ranch he stopped by the bunkhouse to talk to the Devereuxs who had just finished the last of the painting and were cleaning up. "Looks like the boys can move in real soon." Houston nodded his approval. "I'm gonna miss the old bunkhouse but this one sure is nice – and a lot bigger, too."

"Marty and I thought maybe tomorrow would work for move in day." Ben looked around, proud of what had been accomplished. "This was fun – building something from scratch. But I gotta tell you, I'm looking forward to fixing up that old house on the other property."

"Good – you're exactly the person for the job. CJ's wanted that place fixed up since she was ten years old and it belonged to her uncle."

"Marty was telling me about that." He watched as the boss walked through the new building, remembering what the foreman had told him about how Houston – at the age of fifteen – had driven a knife blade into a post in the barn on the other ranch after threatening CJ's uncle. "I remember him – hard to believe the two were related."

"Yeah." Matt walked back into the main room. "The TV that I ordered ought to be here today." He grinned just thinking about what the reaction of the men would be to the seventy two inch screen that would be installed. "Well, I'm going to go up and pack my bag to head down. Just wanted to let y'all know. I'll call you."

"We sure appreciate it, Houston. I don't know if we'll ever know what happened to her but at least we've tried." Ben held out his hand and the two shook.

Marcy gave him a hug. "Just be careful down there."

"I will – and I'm sure I'll be getting a speech or two on that subject before I get off the property." He laughed as he turned and headed up to the house. Once inside the kitchen he heard the sound of running water and CJ fussing. "Uh oh." Heading back down the hallway he found that Catey had once again clogged the toilet near the stairs. "Catherine Rose..." His voice was stern and the little girl turned to look up at him, her curls just like her dad's but the eyes that met his exactly like her mother's. "What did we tell you about that yesterday?"

Her head tucked down, she came to him, hugging him around his knees. "I sorry."

"That's two...remember we talked about three strikes yesterday?" He knelt down and looked her squarely in the eye. "It's okay to be curious about how things work but you can't keep flooding the house. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

Matt had a shocked expression on his face as did CJ whose head snapped up when she heard the answer. Nobody had taught her "yes sir – no sir" yet.

"I'm going to be leaving for a few days and I better not get a phone call that you've been flooding the house again."

"Yes sir." She looked up at him then, her mother's eyes meeting his and Matt felt his heart flip flop. He wanted to just pick her up and tell her not to worry about it but she needed to know right from wrong.

"I think you need to stand in that corner over there for a couple of minutes and think about it." He pointed to his right and she quietly toddled over and sat down cross-legged on the floor facing it, her head hung down. As he watched her he almost felt guilty and then looked at CJ who looked him straight in the eye, a smile threatening to surface. She knew him too well and could tell he was having doubts. Giving him a small nod of approval she went back to cleaning up the mess that her daughter had made. "Need some help?"

"No, it's about done."

"I'm going to go pack." Leaning over he kissed her cheek and then went up the stairs meeting the nanny who was on her way back down carrying Vinnie. "The Toilet Tamer has been at it again." He couldn't help but grin.

"I'm sorry, Houston."

"You can't be in two places at once, Sheila. It was bound to happen. Hoyt kept telling me to get ready – she's almost two years old." He snickered as he went on up to his room.

Thirty minutes later he came back downstairs and heard the sound of his daughter's laughter coming from the den where she and Tilly were having a round of hide and seek – one of their favorite games. The half Husky-half Blue Heeler was an important part of the family and Matt was glad for her presence. He knew without a doubt that as long as Tilly was around no one would be able to hurt Catey or any of the other members of the family. Setting his bag down in the hallway outside the den he went to tell his family goodbye and as expected received the advice of being careful three times over – once from each of the ladies present. After giving the boys a kiss on the head, he picked up Catey Rose. "No more flooding the house, right?" She shook her head no. "That's my Lady Bug." He gave her a big hug and kiss before setting her back down on her feet.

"I'll walk you out." CJ followed him out onto the back porch and they hugged for a couple of minutes before sharing a kiss. "Think you can stay out of trouble?"

"I don't know – this is me we're talking about." He gave her a big smile. "You could go with me..."

"And if I did you would be distracted." She gave him a quick kiss. "I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thanks, Babe. Talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you, too, Cowboy."

The trip to New Orleans was a little over five hours. Although he had thought about flying, he didn't really want to rent a car, preferring instead to try to blend in with the pickup from the ranch. As he headed first south and then hit I-10 headed east, he thought about the last time he had been to the Crescent City; it had ended badly with the death of a dear friend.

His mind went back to Catey and he couldn't help but laugh out loud. He didn't remember being almost two years old, but he did remember getting into plenty of trouble when he was a kid. The conversation with McSwain that morning had brought back a few memories of his teenage years and looking back it was a wonder he had survived. _Daddy really did have the patience of a saint._ Knowing what he knew now he appreciated even more what the man had done for him and hoped that he could be as good of a dad. He intended to do his best in that department.

The phrase "wrapped around her finger" came to mind when he thought about how Catey had looked up at him earlier and the "yes sir" from her had taken him totally by surprise. She was smart and as he thought about how she had picked up on that phrase and several others, he reminded himself once again that he needed to be careful with what he said around her.

After a stop for lunch in Jennings, Louisiana, Matt made his way on into New Orleans. He had studied the area where Rachel had lived on campus and where she had worked, and decided to get a room near the French Quarter. He checked in at the Dauphine Orleans and got one of the Carriage House rooms that looked out over the small swimming pool. It was much quieter than the side facing Dauphine Street and after tipping the bell hop, the first thing he did was call the ranch to check on his family. "So has the Toilet Tamer struck again?"

"No." CJ continued rocking Vinnie as Madre Rosa held Mike. "She's been a perfect little lady. I think you might have scared her." There was silence on the other end of the line. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, Cowboy. I meant like Bill used to do to you."

"Oh, okay." He breathed a sigh of relief. "This is new territory ya know."

"I know. It is for me, too. So what's your plan?"

"Well..." He wandered out onto the balcony and had a seat. "I think I'll try looking for some of her friends and roommates from school first. Then I'll try the strip club."

"Why is it that you end up in strip clubs so often in your cases?" She was smiling on the other end of the line and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she knew she had nothing to worry about; he was hers without a doubt.

With a giggle he answered, "Just lucky, I guess." Both started laughing. "I'll call you later. Take care of 'em, Babe. Love you."

"I will. Love you too, Cowboy." Hanging up the phone she looked down at the little boy in her arms. She had seen pictures of Matt when he was the same age and both of the boys were the spitting image of him.

Pulling out the laptop, Matt settled in at the small work area in the room and started looking up first the names of the three girls who had shared the on-campus apartment with Rachel. Doubtless they were no longer at the university; it had been nine years since Katrina hit. Consulting the notes that he had taken from McSwain's file he ran the name Kimberly Brianne Horton. Kimberly had gone back home to Starkville, Mississippi and transferred to Mississippi State where she completed her education and graduated with a bachelor's degree in Interior Design. She was now married and working at a well-known firm in Jackson. He found her current contact information and added it to the file.

Next was Adrienne Bea Stinson, originally a resident of Florida, who had transferred to Missouri State and graduated with a degree in Bio-Medical Engineering. She was now working for a large pharmaceutical company in Chicago.

Last on the list was Lori Inez Gardener who had been a lifelong resident of New Orleans. Unfortunately she had been killed in the flood waters of Katrina. A newspaper article documented how she had been attempting to save a child when she was overcome by the current. He shook his head sadly.

After running through a list of six other classmates with whom Rachel had been friends he found that two more were dead because of the storm, one was in prison on drug charges, and the others were still in the area. He ran checks on all four who were still alive and out of those four the only one who had been in any trouble at all was Yolanda Patterson: the young woman was currently serving four years for drug possession. Looking a little further into the case against Patterson he saw that she had been arrested the first time just two days before the hurricane hit.

Going out to the balcony once again Matt thought about the best way to approach the investigation. There would be plenty of phone calls to make to the folks who were no longer in New Orleans and visits to those who were still nearby. From what he could tell the only thing that looked to have put Rachel Devereux in any possible type of danger other than the hurricane itself was her employment at the strip club. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was near 6:00 and decided to look into the ownership of the club before venturing that way.

Back inside he found the records for "Club Fun-n-Bun" which had three co-owners: Robert Tremble, Dwayne Sachs, and Margot Perrier. A criminal background check on each of the three came back looking a little more interesting than anything else he had found so far. Tremble had done time for aggravated assault twenty years earlier and Sachs had run into problems with gambling when he was just eighteen years old. He was now almost fifty and had no other blemishes on his record. Margot Perrier came back with no criminal history whatsoever. Further checks on the three didn't shed any more light on the subject so he decided to make his way to the club that was located on Bourbon Street between Conti and Bienville. He thought about walking, but knew that he wouldn't be able to carry his pistol into the club due to the restrictions on bars. At least if it was in the truck it would be nearby making him feel somewhat safer. Tucking the Glock into the back of his jeans, he reclaimed the vehicle from the valet, locked the weapon in the console, and headed two blocks northeast and then one block southeast, pleasantly surprised to find a decent parking space nearby. The sidewalks were busy with tourists and locals alike and as he was nearing the door of the club he was stopped by an older couple who asked him to take their picture. After handing the camera back to the pair he couldn't help but snicker as he approached the door of the strip club; the backdrop for the photo had been a blown up cover of an adult magazine and the couple looked like they could have been Sunday school teachers from Iowa.

Paying the cover charge, he entered the club and stopped just inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light near the door. There were three stages in the club and as a girl finished her set on the stage to the far right and the lights dimmed, another dancer took to the center stage accompanied by a thundering beat and wolf whistles and cat calls from an appreciative audience. Finding an empty stool at the bar he ordered a soft drink, receiving a surprised look from the female bartender. Taking the glass in hand he turned and leaned back against the bar and seemingly watched the show when in actuality he was watching the customers as well as the other employees. Nothing else he had found in relation to Rachel had seemed suspicious and he had to keep reminding himself not to overlook another suspect: Katrina. He was so used to dealing with shady people it was easy to lose sight of the much larger possible cause of the girl's disappearance.

While the girl gyrated on stage, swinging provacatively round and round the pole and then performing a move that had her hanging upside down from it, he scrutinized the backstage area that was guarded by two rather large individuals. He thought back to the case he had worked when Sheila's husband had been killed; that had ended in a strip club as well.

A few minutes later the dancer on the main stage ended her set and and pranced through the crowd up to the bar and spoke to the bartender, flashed Houston a dazzling smile, and then went backstage. By that time the next dancer had taken to the stage on the left hand side of the club and everyone's attention was on her. Feeling movement to his left, the PI looked over as a man in his forties sat down at the bar next to him and ordered a beer. Spinning around to view the show he nodded at the younger man and smiled. "They're about to start all three stages at once. Got here just in time." Matt smiled and nodded. He had to admit the girls were beautiful but as far as he was concerned they might as well have been walking on the moon – they simply weren't CJ.

Three hours later after a trip to the restroom, Matt accidentally ran into one of the bouncers who was talking to a woman that he recognized from his research that afternoon: Margot Perrier. After apologizing for the error he flashed them a smile and went back to have a seat at the bar again and continued to watch the activity going on around him, glancing back to see her looking at him and whispering something to the bouncer who gave him a glare. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and after waiting a couple of minutes he slid down from the stool and went back out on the street, pausing outside to draw in a breath of fresh air. The alarmed feeling had subsided and he made his way back up the street to his truck and climbed inside. Out of habit he unlocked the console and laid his hand on the pistol, checking to make sure it was still there. _Getting paranoid in your old age, Mattlock. But she did seem to be staring at you. _

As he watched the traffic and then pulled out when there was an opening, he didn't see Margot Perrier and the bouncer watching him from the doorway. The owner of the club took a piece of paper from the bouncer and pulled out a cell phone and made a call. "I think there was someone in the club just now that you might be interested in: that PI you told me about – Houston."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Back at the hotel, Matt pulled a beer out of the mini-fridge, popped the top on it, and looked at his surroundings. The Carriage House room had exposed brick and beams, lending a very relaxed atmosphere and he thought to himself it would make a great getaway for CJ and himself sometime. Going out to the balcony that overlooked the saltwater pool he sat down and looked out across the courtyard. It was quiet. Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called the Texas ranch. ‟Hey, Lil Mama."

‟Back from the strip club so early? It's only 10:00."

‟Yep. I just wanted to get a look at the place – see if there was anything going on there that shouldn't have been."

‟Hon, it's a strip joint...what exactly did you expect to be going on there?" CJ gave a laugh on the other end of the line and he could hear Sheila and Madre Rosa both laughing in the background, and he knew that the phone was on speaker.

Deciding to put her on the spot and have a little fun he lowered his voice to a sexy tone. ‟Too bad you weren't there – you could have shown those girls a few moves on the pole." Immediately he could hear more laughter from Sheila while there was a slight gasp from the housekeeper before the phone was taken off speaker.

‟Cowboy, you're just looking for trouble, aren't you?" Although he had shocked her with the comment it wasn't unappreciated and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

‟Obviously – that's why I called you." He took a long swallow of the beer and then chuckled as he could still hear the nanny laughing hysterically in the background. ‟Sheila sounds like she's either about to lay an egg or take a trip to the coronary care unit."

‟Neither one I hope. So how's it going?"

"It's going. Kinda quiet except for..." He paused.

"What?"

"Well, I just kind of had a strange feeling while I was there." He explained about bumping into the bouncer and the stare from one of the owners.

"Maybe they thought you were drunk."

"Don't know. Anyway, I figured to interview the folks that are still around here tomorrow and see if any of them know anything." His tone got more serious. "I just don't have a good feeling about it though, Babe."

"They just want the truth, hon. One way or the other."

"I know...I just..." He paused again.

"You just want to make everything right; but sometimes that just can't happen. This was nine years ago. If something criminal did happen to her whatever evidence time hasn't erased Katrina most likely did."

"Yeah." He remained quiet. "On a brighter note, I think I found a good place for us to escape to on occasion."

"Oh, really?" The smile on her face and the tone of her voice caused the other two women to exchange a look and smile.

"Uh huh. It's kinda lonely here. You could still come down."

"I've got your children to take care of, Cowboy – but I appreciate the offer." Looking up she saw Sheila making kissy faces while Madre Rosa was blushing brightly.

"Well – if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"I sure do – right next door to a historic bordello." She cracked up as Sheila went into another round of laughter. "I did a little research when you told me where you were staying. Be careful – the bar is supposed to be haunted."

"Hmm...maybe one of the ghosts will keep me company." Swallowing down the last of his beer he stood up and walked inside, ending the call a couple of minutes later and plopping down on the couch with the TV remote and another beer as he began channel surfing. A few minutes later he tossed down the remote with a sigh. "Guess this is gonna be a lonely night." Standing up, he went to the balcony door and closed it before turning back toward the bed.

The next morning dawned with a drizzly rain coming down, looking like a gray veil across the face of the city. He pulled up the list of Rachel Devereux's acquaintances and began making phone calls, the first of which was to the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women where Yolanda Patterson was being housed. After several minutes on hold, he was finally transferred to a lieutenant and after explaining the reason for his visit as well as his association with the Harris County Sheriff's Office he was granted permission for a visit at 1:30 that afternoon. His next phone calls went fairly smoothly and he was able to reach three of the people that he had on his list. He scheduled two meetings for that morning and one for that night before taking a walk four blocks south and then five blocks east to Cafe du Monde. One of the great perks of being in New Orleans was the coffee and beignets at the historic establishment. The drizzle had turned into a fine mist and as he stepped inside and placed his order he saw the person he was supposed to be meeting: Roger Lombardi had just received his order and Houston spoke his name, causing the man to turn toward him. "Hi – Matt Houston." He extended his hand and the two shook.

"Your call this morning surprised me – I haven't heard Rachel's name in years."

Nodding, Matt stepped forward in the line. "Her parents asked me to see what I could find out."

"Tell you what: get your order and I'll meet you out on the patio."

"Sounds good." As he watched the baristas at work the time passed quickly and before he knew it his order of a large black coffee and beignets was being handed to him. Walking out under the famous green and white striped canopy, he spotted Lombardi and had a seat at the table. "Boy, this is something I haven't had in a long time." He reached down for one of the pastries covered generously with powdered sugar and took a bite, smiling.

"Haven't been here myself in a while." Lomabardi looked off to his right toward the Mississippi River where a paddle wheeler was making it's way around the bend. "But it's something that I never get tired of seeing." He took a sip of the coffee and then looked across at the private investigator. "I wish I could tell you what happened to Rachel. She was such a sweet girl..." He looked down into the coffee cup. "She always wanted to help other people – sometimes too much."

Matt remained quiet and let the man talk, sensing that there had been more to the relationship than merely friends. "Rachel and I..." He started and then stopped. "We dated during our junior and senior years. I asked her to marry me." Looking back up at Houston he shook his head. "She wanted to finish school first. And then she took that job..."

"At the strip club?" The PI took another bite.

"I never could figure that out. Rachel was...well, she wasn't like that, you know what I mean? We had never even..." He shrugged.

"I got you."

"We had a fight. I forbid her to work there." Shaking his head sadly he looked toward the river again. "That was a big mistake. She said that I didn't understand – that there was more to it than just the money that she was making. I argued that it could potentially ruin the career that she wanted."

It was at that point that Matt realized he didn't know what her major had been. "Her folks didn't tell me – what was she studying?"

"Criminal Justice." Lombardi saw the look on the man's face and nodded. "That's exactly the way I reacted. I'm not saying that a stripper couldn't be a cop – I'm sure that there are plenty who worked through school like that but a woman who wants to be taken seriously in the business...well, that just doesn't seem like a good work history to me."

"It could make someone think twice I guess." Houston took another bite of beignet and wiped the sugar off on a napkin. "So did she ever explain what her reasons were other than needing the money?"

"I never gave her the chance." Quickly looking away toward the river, Lombardi tried to cover the fact that he was fighting tears.

"You broke up." He watched as the man nodded, swallowing hard.

"She just wouldn't even consider quitting." Looking back at Matt he took a long swallow of coffee and picked up one of the pastries, lightly tapping the side of the bowl to dislodge a mountain of the topping. "Wouldn't budge on it at all. I'd never seen her like that. I mean she was making good money – wicked good, ya know? She was gorgeous and the tips she got really helped her out. A lot of it went toward helping other people, too. One of her friends was having problems and was in danger of having to quit school."

"Do you remember her name?"

"Yeah – Yolanda. I don't remember her last name."

"Patterson."

"That's it."

"Who else was she helping?"

"I know a big chunk of it was going to help different groups that helped the poor kids around here." He waved a hand back toward the city. "There's a lot of poverty here. Always has been."

Houston nodded and took another bite. "So did she ever mention anyone at the club in particular? Someone she worked with or one of the bosses? A customer maybe?"

Lombardi shook his head and took a long sip of the cafe au lait, swirling the contents of the cup and looking down. "Our breakup was about three weeks before Katrina." He took another sip. "You know, a lot of people here lost their homes, cars, businesses...and loved ones. I didn't lose anything but the love of my life and I would trade everything I have now just to have her back."

Matt had noticed that he wasn't wearing a ring. "Never married, huh?"

"No...just to my work." Not knowing that the PI had already run a check on him he volunteered the next bit of information. "I work for a non-profit that helps kids...the one that was Rachel's favorite. It seemed like the least I could do. But I guess in a way it's selfish, too; I keep hoping that one day she'll show up and walk through the door and we'll be back together again." After a pause he looked Houston straight in the eye. "I did some research on you after you called this morning. Kind of a habit. After the hurricane all kinds of idiots came out of the woodwork claiming to be private investigators and offering to track people down. I don't know what the Devereuxs are paying you but I know they aren't rich. I'd like to help them."

"They aren't paying me a dime." Houston explained the relationship. "I started my agency to do just what I'm doing right now."

"Thank you." Lombardi held out his hand and the pair shook before he stood up. "I've got to get back to work." Handing the PI one of his cards he spoke again. "Please call me and let me know what you find."

Removing a card from his pocket, Matt handed it over. "I'll do it. If you should happen to hear anything..."

"I will. Thanks again." Taking the last of the coffee with him he walked out onto Decatur Street and headed east.

Matt pulled out his notebook and jotted down what he had gotten from the man before polishing off the remaining beignet. After wiping off more of the sugar, he left the patio and began walking down toward Woldenberg Riverfront Park and the Aquarium of the Americas. After giving his name to one of the guards stationed at the river side of the building, he was joined in a few minutes by Rona Clayton. "Mr. Houston?" He turned away from the river to find a woman approaching him. "Hi – I'm Rona."

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."

"Has there been any word on Rachel?"

"No ma'am. Her parents asked me to look into the case."

Stepping closer she looked down river where passengers were boarding the Canal Street Ferry for the trip across the Mississippi to the Algiers section of the city. "After all these years I was still hoping...guess that's silly."

"No, not at all. And you're not the only one." He watched as the crew of the ferry prepared to depart. "I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me that might give me some idea of where else to look."

"She dated a guy named Roger Lombardi."

"I just met with him."

"Oh, well..." She sighed. "Rachel was a nice girl but she had started working at a strip club. I was shocked." Looking at the PI she smiled. "That's not saying that she wasn't still a nice girl in any way, Mr. Houston, it's just that it was so unlike her."

"So I've heard."

"It was just out of character for her. No one could believe that she of all people would take a job like that. There were so many other opportunities out there for her, but I guess the lure of good money was just more than she could stand; she didn't want to be a burden on her parents."

"Did she ever talk to you about the job?"

"Not much. When she wasn't in class or working with the kids at the Crescent Center she was working at the club."

"Do you know of any problems that she was having personally or that anyone close to her was having?" He watched as she paused for a minute, her eyes cutting up to meet his.

"I assume you're referring to Yolanda."

"Not necessarily just her..."

"Yolanda was like Rachel: they were both there on scholarship which was great, but a college student has other expenses, too. Yolanda had come from the Ninth Ward – grew up rough but was trying to change all that. But when you need money you use what you know."

"And she knew about drugs."

Nodding, Rona looked back out over the river. "She sold but she absolutely refused to use. And she wouldn't sell to kids." Turning back toward the PI she gave him a serious look. "I didn't condone what she did but I understood why she did it."

"I understand she was arrested just a couple of days before the storm."

"She was. Rachel was trying to get her out. The last time I saw her was when she was helping me carry my belongings to the car when I went back home to Alabama. She was trying to get Yolanda's bail lowered. That was on the 27th of August." Reaching into the pocket of her skirt she pulled out a business card. "Just...if you would call and let me know."

"I will. Thanks for your time." He turned and walked up Canal Street for a ways as the rain moved in once again, forcing him to catch a cab for the ride back to the hotel. He looked at his watch as he exited and paid the driver, noticing that it was almost 11:00 and he decided it would be best to start for the prison in Gabriel. After a quick stop at a gas station to fill up, he hit I-10 going toward Baton Rouge.

He hit the speed dial on his phone for the ranch and put it on speaker. "Hey, there. How's everybody doin' this mornin'?" Madre Rosa had answered the phone and he could hear Catey in the background jabbering a mile a minute.

"Everything is just fine. Are you behaving yourself now?" She gave a giggle.

"What do you mean by "now" exactly?" He was smiling.

"After what you said to CJ last night I think you know _exactly_ what I mean."

"We're married – it's legal." Cracking up he took a sip of water and set the cruise control on the truck.

"I wouldn't blame her if she put a whoopin' on you when you get back."

"Nah – she would be worried about me if I didn't do something like that occasionally."

"The sad thing is you're probably right. Do you want to talk to Catey?"

"If it won't interrupt her busy schedule too much." He waited and could hear as his daughter took the phone from the housekeeper.

"Daddy?"

"Hey, Lady Bug. Are you being good?"

"Uh huh. It's moving day."

"Yeah, Marty and the boys are moving into the new bunkhouse." He listened as she went on a talking spree and was relieved when he heard CJ's voice in the background.

"Gotta go. Love you. 'Bye!" With that the little girl was gone and CJ was now on the line and put it on speaker as she began chopping up vegetables for a salad.

"Hey, Cowboy. How's it going?"

"Okay. Sounds like Catey's all excited."

"When isn't she?"

"No more toilet tidal waves?"

"Not a one...so far." Both laughed. "So what about the case?"

"I'm on the way to the women's prison up near Baton Rouge. One of Rachel's old friends is doing time there. Thought maybe she might be able to tell me something."

"Just be careful, sweetie."

"Who me? DAMN!"

In the background CJ could hear squealing brakes and horns blowing, then the sound of an engine being kicked into passing gear just before a gunshot and shattering glass. "Matt?!" There was no reply for a minute but she heard him cursing under his breath, then another shot, this one from much closer and sounding more familiar: she knew he had fired a shot. Squalling tires, a loud crash, and then the engine stopping came from the speaker next. The sound of the truck door slamming could be heard and then she heard him give someone the command to come out with their hands in the air. Her heart beating fast she carefully lay the knife down as both Madre Rosa and Sheila quickly entered the kitchen. All three stood mesmerized and could hear Houston ordering someone to the ground. In a minute the sound of approaching sirens was heard and then they heard as Matt identified himself. There was an exchange for a minute and then he was back in the truck.

"Babe – you still there?"

"What in the hell happened?"

"Some guy tried to run me off the road and when that didn't work he took a shot at me. I got a lucky shot off at one of his tires and he went off the road near Blind River. Gotta deal with the deputy here. I'll call you back as soon as I'm free. Love you."

"You, too. Just be sure to call me."

"Yes ma'am." With that he was gone, leaving two of the women breathing a sigh of relief but not CJ; she remembered what he had said about having a strange feeling the night before. Matt's gut feelings were usually right and she was starting to believe that this time was no exception.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

CJ was in the study of the ranch in Texas furiously working the keyboard looking into the ownership of "Club Fun-n-Bun", holding her breath as she saw the last name of one of the owners: _Perrier_. She thought back to the previous January. Matt had been called to help the Fire Marshal's Office at the scene of a boat explosion at the Marcos Marina in Los Angeles. Before the day was over he had been felled by a bad case of the flu and CJ had conducted most of the computer-related investigation about the child porn distributor for both Rich Holt and Michael Hoyt. Matt hadn't had anything further to do with the case and that was probably why the name hadn't raised any red flags with him. In his defense it _was_ New Orleans; French names were part of the territory and he probably hadn't thought twice when he ran across Margot Perrier.

Snatching up the phone, she called Michael Hoyt's cell phone in Los Angeles. Before he even had a chance to say hello she launched on him. "Michael, I need you to run a criminal background check on a Margot Elise Perrier."

"Good day to you, too...Perrier?" The name struck him. "As in...?"

"I don't know." She could hear him as he began punching keys.

"Is Houston okay?" He knew from the sound of her voice that something was going on and listened as she told him about the case and what had just happened.

"I'm waiting for him to call me back now." Leaning back in the chair she took a deep breath.

"Can't believe he didn't wonder when he came across that name."

"He's in New Orleans, Michael; do you have any idea how many Perriers there are there?"

"True, but...then again, he didn't really work that angle of the case too much because of the flu. Alright..." He looked at what was pretty much a blank screen. "CJ, there isn't anything on her."

"Something is going on, Michael. Besides, if she is related to Yvon Perrier they could have something to do with Rachel's disappearance." Thinking quickly she asked him to see if there had been any further developments with the other name that Yvon used – Pierre LaSalle.

"Not that I've heard but let me check." He pounded the keyboard and could hear as CJ's cell phone rang.

"Hang on..." She answered, putting it on speaker. "Hon, are you okay?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Matt looked down as a paramedic was bandaging his right forearm.

"What do you mean pretty much?"

"I took a bullet in the right arm. No big deal."

"No big deal?! Matt..."

"It was a through and through, Babe. Might need some packing and bandages."

"What about the deputy?"

"We're good. I've got to make a statement after I get squared away at the hospital but I don't foresee any problems."

"So who is this guy?"

"I think he's the bouncer I was telling you about last night. Look, do me a favor: the woman that he was talking to..."

"Was Margot Perrier. I know – I've been digging while I was waiting for you to call me back. Michael's on the other phone and ran a check on her – nothing."

"I ran one yesterday afternoon." He winced as tape was applied to the bandage. "Look, I've got to get off of here. They're gonna make me go in the ambulance. Damn waste of time and I'm supposed to be at the prison at 1:30 for the interview with Patterson."

"She's not going anywhere. Look – do you want me to come down there?"

"Hell no – you stay at the ranch. I'll call you back as soon as I get things wrapped up. Guess I'll have to reschedule with the prison."

"Take care of that arm first, Cowboy. And call me as soon as you can. Love you."

"Love you. 'Bye." He hung up as the deputy came back with his Glock and handed it to him.

"The sheriff talked to your boss in Houston – said you could have this back. She vouched for ya."

"Thanks." He attempted to tuck the gun into the back of his jeans but discovered that his right arm wasn't going to cooperate and switched to the left instead.

"Deputy Lawrence is going to bring your truck to the ER for you."

"Thanks again." He sat back on the gurney as the doors were closed and began answering what seemed like a thousand questions for the paramedic's records, the thought going through his mind that he was usually out when being transported and wasn't bothered with the questions.

Back in Houston, CJ was still stewing and Michael heard the sigh on the other end of the line. "Sounds like he's fine, CJ."

"Yeah..."

"Don't even think about it."

"What?"

"You're thinking about going down there – don't. He already told you not to do it."

"So are you psychic?" She couldn't help but smile.

"No...but I've got a friend who seems to have leanings that way and if he told you to stay put he meant it. You've got other responsibilities now, you know."

That didn't sit well with her. "Like he doesn't?"

"You know what I mean." Hoyt leaned back in the chair. "I'm going to call Alex Bateux and see if he knows anything about Margot Perrier. And since he's from Louisiana he might be able to help Matt in some way – or know someone who can."

"Thanks, Michael. Sorry I snapped at you."

"I understand. I'll call you." Hanging up, he immediately dialed Special Agent Alexander Bateux of the Federal Bureau of Investigation who had helped them back in January as they tried to track down the child porn distributor. Cursing as the call went to voice mail, he left a message. "Alex – Michael Hoyt. Houston is down in Louisiana and may need some help from you. If you have any other information on Yvon Perrier or Phillipe LaSalle I would appreciate a call." Hanging up he looked at the phone and then went to look out the window overlooking the street below. What little they knew about Perrier wasn't good and the fact that the PI was so far away that he couldn't help him gave him unease.

Back in Houston, CJ looked up to find Madre Rosa standing at the door to the study looking frightened. "He's been shot?"

"Nothing serious. It went through his right arm."

"CJ – since when is getting shot not a serious thing?" The housekeeper came into the room.

"He might need a few stitches." She found herself trying to adopt Matt's attitude about such things, trying to calm the fears of the woman who had been like a mother to him.

"You're trying to convince yourself of that, too." Watching as the younger woman picked up her cell phone and started back to the kitchen she stopped her in the doorway. "He's talked about retiring...when do you think he will?"

"Madre Rosa..." She looked at the woman who had helped her through her teenage years like her own mother would have. "I don't know. Nobody but him will know when it's time." Giving the older lady a hug she went back to the kitchen, trying to look calm.

After a surprisingly quick trip to the local emergency room, Houston came out to find that not only had his truck been brought to the ER, but that Deputy Lawrence and a crime scene tech had removed the shattered glass and recovered the bullet from the passenger side door. "Won't swear that there isn't a sliver here and there but I think we pretty well got it."

"I sure wasn't expecting that, Deputy and I really do appreciate it."

"Think you're okay to follow me to the department?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Matt found a jacket behind the seat and after giving it a shake to rid it of any debris, placed it on the seat and slid behind the wheel. As he followed along the thought that he needed to see about a replacement window ASAP came to him as it started to mist again. He had called the prison and rescheduled for the following day, something that irritated him but like CJ had said, Patterson wasn't going anywhere and his arm and the window both required attention.

He got out of the truck, rummaging around for a minute in the toolbox, and found a tarp which he covered the door with before following Lawrence inside. After receiving a visitor's pass he was taken back to the offices of the Criminal Investigation Division where he began filling out a report on the incident. When he was finished, he was interviewed by Lieutenant Ronald Driscoll. "Welcome to St. James Parrish, Sergeant." The man with the thick Louisiana accent shook his hand and offered him a seat.

"Thanks."

"Not the way we like to welcome folks." He leaned back in the chair. "Care to fill me in on why Royal Callisto was trying to run you off the road?"

"Well..." Matt leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee. "Like I said in the report I bumped into him in a club last night. Maybe my apology wasn't to his satisfaction."

"And I understand this has nothing to do with Harris County?"

"No sir. It's a private case."

"You said in your report that it was related to a young lady who went missing about the time that Katrina hit."

"It is." He watched as the lieutenant shifted in his chair.

"And you're not going to give me any more than you put in the report."

"What's in the report is what happened, sir."

"Let's hope that you don't bump into anyone else and piss 'em off, Sergeant."

"I'll do my very best."

"I'm sure you will." He stood and offered his hand to the man. "You're free to go. Any other officer would have responded in the same manner. Completely justifiable. Be safe out there."

"Yes sir. Thank you." Following Deputy Lawrence back outside, he thanked the young man and headed back to New Orleans. If he was lucky he could get the window replaced that afternoon, meet with his 8:00PM appointment, and head up to the prison for the rescheduled interview at 1:30PM the following day. After a quick stop at a hardware store for some clear plastic and a roll of tape he had the temporary repair completed and got back on the road, calling CJ once again. "Hey, Lil Mama."

"Have you managed to stay out of any other trouble?"

"Sure have and I've got a name for you to run to boot...are you ready?"

"Go ahead."

"Royal Lorenzo Callisto."

"I'll run him down – since he already tried to run you down." She smiled.

"Funny. I'm on my way back to New Orleans. Gotta get a new window...and some lunch. Talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you, Cowboy." She hung up and went to the study where she rolled the chair up to the desk and began researching the man that she would love to strangle. Royal Lorenzo Callisto: age 32, brown hair, brown eyes, six feet four inches tall, and three hundred twenty pounds. "Good Lord – sounds like a defensive lineman." After another minute she snickered. "And that's because he was at one time. Very interesting."

Madre Rosa drifted into the room. "You're talking to yourself."

"It's Matt's fault."

"So who is this man?" Sitting down on the loveseat she watched as the younger woman's eyes scanned the screen.

"He is one big son of...ahem...uh, he's a big guy. Used to be on the practice squad for the Saints until he blew a knee out." Picking up the phone on the desk she called Michael once again. "Hi there."

"You sound calmer." The fact that she did eased his worries – but only slightly. "Any more news?"

"He's on the way back to New Orleans and I have the name of the...uh, jerk that tried to run him off the road: Royal Lorenzo Callisto."

"Alright..." The cop sat down behind the desk once again and began running a check. "Holy cow...this is one big guy with a big record, too. Okay..." He rattled off the contents of the file to the lawyer-turned-PI, the offenses including witness intimidation, assault, attempted murder, and aggravated assault. "This is _not_ a nice person." He stood and went to the outer office for a cup of coffee. "Tell me something, Counselor: how does he manage to find such wonderful people to piss off?"

"Don't know; but it's a habit I wish he would break."

"Mmm..." He took a sip of the brew and headed back inside. "No doubt. I haven't heard back from Alex just yet but I did just send you Callisto's information."

"We appreciate it. I'll let you know if anything else happens."

"So I'll be hearing from you for sure: this is Houston we're talking about – something always happens."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"I appreciate it, Carmine." Matt tipped the valet generously and was assured that the repair on the truck's window would be completed before morning. After asking for a reputable repair center, the PI had considered himself lucky that Carmine's brother owned a repair shop and after a quick phone call to the shop and a conversation with the man, he was happy that the work could be handled in the parking garage of the hotel.

Setting out on foot and with the Glock firmly secured in the back waistband of his jeans where he could get to it with his left hand, he went a couple of blocks to a small sandwich shop that boasted of the best po' boys in town. Taking his order back to the carriage house, he sat down on the couch and declared war on the fried shrimp sandwich loaded down with plenty of hot sauce. His next move was to call CJ and see what she had found out about his would-be attacker. "Hey, I'm back at the hotel."

"Good. I've got some information on your friend Royal." She rattled off what Hoyt had given her and that she had forwarded to her husband's email. "I also did a little checking into his financials. He receives a direct deposit from Bun, LLC." Determined not to laugh she waited for the chuckle that she knew would be coming across the phone line and wasn't disappointed, the familiar sound comforting to her.

"I'm sure as hell glad he wasn't the one up there stripping last night. That woulda been a God-awful train wreck." The cowboy had a good laugh as did she before both got serious again. "So did Michael have anything else on Perrier/LaSalle?"

"He did not; but he was waiting for a call back from Alex."

"Mmm..." Matt took a sip of the Fizzy Pop. "I was thinking about calling him."

"Well, Michael did and seemed a little upset at the fact that he got his voice mail."

"He does have other things to do besides help out lowly PI's and cops." Leaning forward he picked up the bottle of antibiotics that had been given to him at the hospital earlier and popped one of them into his mouth following it with a sip of his drink. As he started to lean back he was reminded of the pistol and removed it, putting it on the couch cushion next to him. "So I'm going to guess that you've also been – and don't take this the wrong way – looking more closely at Bun, LLC." The laugh on the other end of the line was music to his ears.

"I have. They've been in business for twelve years. Other than an audit by the IRS three years ago there isn't anything even remotely interesting about them...except for one thing: they received a large deposit about nine months ago from Arnaud Import/Export." Waiting to see if he would recognize it, she walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of tea.

"Arnaud..." He thought and counted back nine months to January – the time of the Marcos Marina case. "That was one of Perrier's companies wasn't it?"

"Ring the bell and win a prize. I wasn't sure if you would remember."

"To be perfectly honest I didn't – just did the math. What was the deal with them?"

"They were involved in the distribution of the videos that you found in Deerfield's place." The silence on the other end of the line conveyed her husband's anger as he thought back to the sickened feeling that he had experienced at finding literally hundreds of DVD's in a secret room in the producer's home. "You okay?"

"Yeah." All humor was gone from his voice and he was quiet for a moment as he thought. "CJ..." He began pacing back and forth across the room. "Rachel was working in a strip club that was associated – albeit loosely – with Perrier. Stripping often goes hand-in-hand with porn. And did you know she was a Criminal Justice major?"

"No." Returning to the study she sat down behind the desk.

"She was...and very near to graduation. Babe, she might have been working undercover for somebody. A lot of agencies will recruit folks that are that close to graduating – and with her academic record, looks, student status, and financial situation she would have been a prime candidate."

"You're right."

"I really do want to talk to Alex now." He looked at his watch to discover that it was now almost 4:00PM. A lot of his day had been wasted because of Royal Callisto. Although he hadn't stopped the PI, he had definitely slowed down his progress. With the charges he was facing and his long list of priors, bail for the man would be high if granted at all. Matt was hoping the judge who landed the bail hearing wasn't feeling generous. He didn't need another road block in his search. "I think I already know the answer but has there been any other activity between Arnaud and Bun?"

"No – that deposit was made the day that I hacked them. It was also the last trace of Arnaud."

Sighing, the PI plopped back down on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. "Okay...well, hell." He made the mistake of reaching for his neck with his right hand and immediately regretted it as pain shot up through his shoulder making him involuntarily suck in a breath.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..." He lowered the arm and rested it on a pillow.

CJ wasn't fooled. "You tweaked the arm, didn't you?"

"Kinda." He got quiet again and tried to think about the facts before them and ignore the throbbing in his arm.

"You said it was your right arm." Although she had known him to shoot left-handed on one other occasion it had been at extremely close range; she wasn't sure how he would fare in a different situation.

"Uh huh."

"Hon...if you have to – will you be able to shoot with your left hand?"

"Yeah." He knew she was thinking about the day that both of them had fired shots killing his former fiancee when she tried to shoot CJ.

Speaking very quietly she continued. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Changing the subject he went on. "CJ, we need to find out who she might have been working for...and the FBI is the first that comes to mind. They do the lion's share of work on...this stuff." He couldn't bring himself to actually call it what it was – it brought back too many bad memories. "I'll try giving Alex a call, too. He must be swamped or he would have..." He paused as he heard CJ's phone beep.

"Hang on – it's Michael. I'll set up a three way call." She disappeared for a minute and the next voice the PI heard was a welcome one.

"So the lightning rod theory holds up in Louisiana, too." Hoyt couldn't help smiling.

"Apparently." Matt propped his feet up on the coffee table again. "Have you heard back from Alex?"

"Better than that – he's right here with me in the office and I've got it on speaker so don't bad-mouth his home state again."

"Me? I would never think of it."

"Heard you need a little help, _mon ami_."

"Sure do. Has Michael told you what's going on?"

"He has..."

Relating what he and CJ had just been discussing he heard silence over the line. "Are y'all still there?"

"Yeah..." Michael was sitting down behind his desk and looked at Alex whose expression had gone completely serious.

"Houston, you're getting into some..." He sat down in the chair opposite Michael. "You're getting into some very treacherous territory." Pausing, he weighed his words carefully. "I need to talk to some people before I can say anything else." Seeing the look that crossed Hoyt's face he continued. "I know what you're thinking – standard FBI crap. But it's more than that. We're talking joint task force – and you don't know that because I haven't said a word of it, understand?"

"Yeah." Matt couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. He knew that Alex had to be very careful; if the wrong person found out that he was sharing information he would be out of a job and quite possibly up on federal charges and the whole investigation would go to hell. "I'm in a bind here, Alex. And I know you are, too. I realize that this has been just...laying dormant since Katrina but not for the Devereuxs. Those folks have been through hell and they don't deserve it. I'll agree to just about anything to get to the bottom of it for them."

"I understand that." Looking across at Hoyt he gave a sigh. "Let me go back to the office and talk to the bureau chief. Maybe he can pull a few strings. Besides..." He stood up. "He kind of owes you."

"Anything y'all can do to help will be appreciated. And any evidence I've collected – assuming you don't already have it which you probably do – I'll be happy to turn over."

"Hang tight – and don't get into any more shootouts."

"I've got an interview with another friend of Rachel's tonight at 8:00 but after that I'm out of steam."

"Who is it?" The agent pulled out a notebook.

"Denny Ferraro." He waited.

"I'll run a quick check and call you."

"Thanks, bud." He heard the door to Michael's office close and waited a few seconds before saying anything else. "You still there, Hoyt?"

"I am – he's gone." The lieutenant knew that the PI trusted Bateaux but had a feeling he knew what the next question was going to be. "He means every word of it."

"Okay." Blowing out a breath he adjusted the arm on the pillow, wishing that it would back off some but knowing that the night ahead was likely to be a painful one.

"Take care of that arm, PI."

"I will."

"Talk to you later."

There was a click and he and CJ were now alone on the call. "CJ..."

"I'm running a check on Ferraro's financials as we speak." Without a doubt she knew what he wanted. The results were quick. "Nothing suspicious at all, baby."

"Alright." He stood and walked over to the chair where his gear bag was sitting, rummaging around inside for a bottle of Tylenol. "Look, I'm gonna kick back for a while. If you should hear anything else let me know, okay?"

"I will. Try to take a nap. I'll call you at 7:15 if I don't hear anything before then."

"How are the kids?" He popped the two pills and retrieved the pistol from the couch, checking to be sure the door was locked and that the blinds were fully closed before returning to the bed and stretching out as he propped the arm up on a pillow.

"Everybody is just fine. Love you, Cowboy."

"Love you. 'Bye." He hung up and stared at the ceiling for a minute before closing his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Jerking awake, Matt instinctively gripped the gun in his left hand as someone pounded on the door of the hotel room once again. "Who is it?"

"It's Carmine, Mr. Houston."

"Hang on a second." Gritting his teeth at the pain pounding through his arm he got off of the bed and went to one of the windows that looked out over the walkway in front of his room. Carmine was standing there alone waiting. He opened the door.

"Your window is fixed." He handed the bill for the job to the PI. "And your wife called the front desk worried about you. Said she tried your cell and didn't get an answer."

"Guess I was snoring too loud, huh?" Matt grinned as he reached back for his wallet, removed $500 and and handed it to the young man.

"Sir, the bill was only $350..." He looked up at the man.

"Tell him I said thanks for taking care of it so quick. And thanks for waking me up, too."

"Yes sir. No problem. Thank you." Tucking the money into his pocket he turned and walked away.

After closing the door, Matt checked his watch: 7:32. Going to the bed he grabbed a fresh shirt out of the bag as he hit the speed dial and put the phone on speaker. "Matt?"

"Hey...I'm here. Guess I slept through the phone ringing."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Found out anything else?"

"No, but Alex called and said that it's okay to meet with Ferraro and that the bureau chief is speaking to the leader of the joint task force on your behalf. He'll let you know something as soon as he hears back."

"Alright." Tucking the Glock into the back of his jeans once again, the PI took the phone off of speaker and stepped out of the room, being sure to look around outside carefully before closing the door. "I'm headed out now. I'll call you."

"Just be careful. Love you."

"You too, Babe. 'Bye." He hung up and walked out onto Dauphine Street headed east toward the sandwich shop that he had visited earlier in the day, the dark skies overhead rumbling with a rolling thunder. It was a public place and close to the hotel – a good place to meet someone for a meal and not draw any attention to himself. Walking along, his eyes sweeping the street for any signs of trouble, he was glad he had picked the hotel. Dauphine was a good deal more quiet than Bourbon or some of the neighboring streets and there wasn't as much traffic. As he stepped inside the restaurant the skies opened up and the rain began to pour down once again. Nodding to the lady behind the counter, he took up a position that allowed him to keep an eye on the street while still affording him some cover in case anyone decided to take a potshot at him. A few minutes later Denny Ferraro came inside and closed up the umbrella that he was carrying. "Mr. Ferraro?"

"Mr. Houston?" The pair shook.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me." He moved over to a table that was in the corner, taking the seat that gave him a view of the dining area as well as the doorway.

"Not a problem. This is one of my all time favorite places. And believe me..." The blonde haired, bespectacled man laughed heartily as he patted his round belly. "I have a lot of favorites around town."

"Easy to understand why." Matt smiled as the waitress approached and took their orders, both men deciding on crawfish etouffee.

"So you said that Rachel's parents asked you to find her?" Denny took a sip of the iced tea after squeezing the slice of lemon and adding it to the glass.

"They did. I've already spoken to Roger Lombardi and Rona Clayton." He watched the reaction that had greeted the mention of Lombardi's name. "I take it you know both of them?"

Nodding, Ferraro took another sip. "Rona is a sweet lady." He looked up at the PI and grinned. "Excuse me if I'm not so fond of Lombardi."

"No love lost there, huh?"

"Actually there was; he stole Rachel away from me." Sighing he pulled out his wallet and removed a couple of pictures, sliding them across the table to the PI. Both showed Rachel and himself smiling.

"This looks like it was taken during Mardi Gras maybe?" Matt studied the photos. A younger slightly thinner Ferraro had his arm around the young woman in both pictures. In the second she was wearing a necklace that had two charms on it: one a French croix and the other a medallion that appeared to have writing. He held the picture closer.

"It says, _"Je ne regrette rien"_ - meaning _"I regret nothing"_. The other is the Cross of Lorraine. She collected them. And that was her favorite phrase." Both thanked the waitress as she came back with their orders and a basket of garlic cheese biscuits for them to share.

Handing back the photos, the PI spoke again. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"August 28, 2005 at around three in the afternoon. I was begging her not to worry about trying to get her friend out of jail and instead to get herself back to Texas – or at least go to Shreveport with me to my parents' house. She said she was going to Texas – needed to talk to her parents." The expression on his face told Matt that there was more to it than that and he put down the spoon and studied the man across from him.

"And you knew what she needed to talk to them about."

"I did." Wiping his mouth, he looked across at Houston. "She had taken a job as a stripper and her parents found out when some friends saw her during a bachelor party. Needless to say they were not pleased. That wasn't the reason for her going to college."

"They told me." Taking a bite of the etouffee he gave Denny a chance to continue and was rewarded with more information.

"But they didn't know the reason behind it." The voice was lowered to a near whisper and he watched as the man across from him looked back up at him. "I did some checking on you, Mr. Houston. Really, I didn't have to do too much of it; the interview that you did with Giorgio Stavros recently came to mind. After seeing that...I've got a feeling you know exactly why she took the job."

"But you're going to tell me anyway."

"She was undercover. No one was supposed to know but everyone gave her so much grief over it she needed someone to confide in – even though she wasn't supposed to tell a soul."

Keeping his voice down Matt looked at the bowl as he spoke. "FBI?"

"Uh huh."

"I've got a friend there who is trying to get the records for me."

"So this little fishing trip has been for nothing."

"I wouldn't say that." Matt took another bite and picked up one of the biscuits, breaking off a bite. "You've confirmed a few things for me and I appreciate it."

When the meal was over the two parted ways and Houston hustled back down the rainslick street to the hotel, pulling the Glock from his waistband and clearing the room as he entered. Nothing was out of place and there was no sign that anyone had been there. Checking the feed from the surveillance cameras that he had planted in the suite confirmed that there had been no intruders during his absence.

Removing his t-shirt, he grimaced as he thought about what he had to do next: change the packing and the dressing on his arm. "Would've been a lot easier if it had been the left." He reached for the plastic bag that contained the supplies that he needed as there was a quiet knock at the door. Instantly the Glock was back in his left hand and he cautiously approached the door. "Who is it?"

"Somebody who doesn't like getting soaked in the rain. Open the damn door."

Matt's face lit up at the sound of his childhood friend's voice coming from the other side and he opened the door enough for him to enter the room. "Maybe if you had called to let me know you would be dropping in you wouldn't have had to wait so long."

"Nice to see you, too." Chuck Wylie took off the jacket that was soaked and hung it up on the coat tree as he dropped a backpack on the floor. The two men exchanged a hug.

"So what in the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, I don't know...maybe I thought I'd come down and see if you were entertaining any of those painted ladies." The detective with the Harris County Sheriff's Office watched as Matt crossed the room.

"Your visit wouldn't happen to have anything to do with my wife asking you to come down would it?"

"She didn't ask; Lisa told me to come here when CJ told us what had happened with your arm. It seems that my wife kind of likes having you around and didn't like your being down here with a disadvantage."

"Who says I'm disadvantaged?" He grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and walked back over to take a seat on the couch and began pulling out the items needed to do the job as Chuck went back to the bathroom and washed his hands, returning to take charge of re-packing the wound.

"You are a righty." The detective carefully began removing the bandage on the outer portion of his friend's forearm. "So this was the exit side, huh?"

"Yep." Matt watched as he peeled off the bandage on the other side, gritting his teeth. "I take it you went by the house?"

"Had to go see those boys of yours. Too bad they look just like you. I was hoping they would be good lookin' like their mama."

"Funny."

"Catey's sure growing like a weed..." He began carefully removing the packing, stopping to dab at the wound as it started bleeding. "And that little heifer damn near talked me to death."

"That's the real reason you came down here." Both chuckled. "You really shouldn't have, though. I don't like the idea of you getting caught up in the middle of all this."

"My old lady sent me down here. How often do you hear of a woman sending her husband to New Orleans?"

"Might've been a trap..." Matt sucked in a breath as Chuck shot the saline solution into the wound to clean it.

"Nah." He quit talking as he concentrated on gently pushing the packing into the tract that the bullet had left, stealing a glance at his friend who had broken out into a sweat. "You taking anything for it?"

"Antibiotics."

"I meant for the pain."

"I know what you meant."

"Well?"

"No. I need to know what's going on in case they send somebody else after me...which is why you're going back to Houston as soon as you get done torturing me."

"Not happenin', pard. I'm here. Besides..." He picked up one of the gauze bandages and put it over the entrance. "The department won't let me go back to work for another couple of weeks."

"There's a reason for that, Chuck." Matt looked at his friend's face, the scar from where he had been hit with a hammer in a murder attempt was going to be visible for the rest of his life but not nearly as bad as everyone had feared; the surgeon had done a hell of a job on him.

"Yeah – Sheriff Martinez found out how much time I had accrued and made me take a chunk of it."

"You could have gone fishing."

"I did."

"Probably didn't catch anything, though."

"Got pictures to prove otherwise. I'll bore you with them later." He applied a gauze wrap over the other two bandages and taped it closed. "All done."

"Thanks. Now go home."

"Nope, I'm your roomie."

"Chuck, I appreciate what you're trying to do but you've got five kids and a wife – I don't want you getting hurt because of something that doesn't concern you."

"And you've got four kids and a wife. How's it any different?" Pointing to the scar on his face he shook his head. "It concerns me just as much as what got me this." He put the supplies back in the bag and picked up the trash, taking it into the bathroom along with the towel. As he returned he spied the bottle of pain pills in his friend's gear bag, and returned to the couch with them and a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge. "Take your meds. Miss Sheila told me to tell you that."

"Not happening."

"You don't take 'em and she'll be the next one at the door. She already threatened it. And between you and me, I wouldn't want to be on that lady's bad side." After watching his friend swallow the pills he spoke again. "Now call your wife. I bet she's chewing her bottom lip and pacing around already."

"I bet you're right." Retrieving his cell phone from the bed, Matt sat down on the couch next to his friend and made the phone call. "Hey, I'm here and so is what's-his-name."

"Good. I had hoped the weather wouldn't slow him down too much." She breathed a sigh of relief as he began telling her about the meeting with Ferraro. "So you were right."

"Now if the feds will cooperate."

"Hon, even if they do..." She sat down cross-legged on their bed. "That doesn't mean that you'll find her."

"You never know." Rubbing his eyes, he leaned back on the couch.

"It's been nine years."

"Stranger things have happened."

"That's why they're strange, Matt: they don't happen very often." She heard as his phone beeped.

"I'll call you back – it's Alex. Love you." He switched to the other line. "Hey..."

"They've agreed that you can see what they have on the investigation. You'll be met by a couple of agents tomorrow. I set it for the Canal Street Ferry at 9:30."

"Thanks."

"Houston..." Alex sat down at the kitchen table in his home. "Don't get your hopes up."

"That's what CJ was just telling me."

"She's a wise lady – well, except for marrying you." He cracked up.

"Nice to know I'm so highly thought of..."

"You're more highly thought of than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's going to cost you to look at the files."

"I'm not going to balance the country's budget if that's what you mean." He looked over to see a completely perplexed look on Chuck's face and laughed.

"You're going to be offered a job." Alex waited and listened to the silence on the other end of the line.

"No."

"Uh huh."

"Bud, I'm not taking any more government jobs."

"Even if it meant getting to be part of the Child Exploitation Task Force?" Once again there was silence. "You still there?"

"Uh huh." Matt rubbed his eyes again. "You're kidding – right?"

"Nope – us Fibbies don't kid about stuff like that. Three of the agents that are with the task force know about you – and you've talked to one of them before."

"You're on it?"

"Nope."

"Who in the hell...?"

"Think about it. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah, thanks." The PI hung up.

"What the heck was all that?" Chuck had helped himself to a bottle of water from the fridge and sat back down next to his friend.

"A complete blindside, that's what."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Chuck and Matt had taken a cab down to the ferry landing and were now waiting onboard. As he looked around their surroundings, Chuck spoke in a low tone. "So are they supposed to be wearing red carnations or how in the hell will we know who they are?"

"We'll figure it out." Houston took a sip of the coffee, his right hand shaking slightly in response to the throbbing pain that was shooting through his arm. Covered up by the sleeve of his denim shirt, the bandages weren't visible to anyone. "And I just did but I can't believe my eyes." Coming up the ramp onto the ferry was a man that, although he had talked to him on the phone one time, he had seen on the news many times: Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was accompanied by a younger man whose appearance immediately screamed cop to the PI: an African-American with a shaved head, dark sunglasses, and a walk that said no crap would be accepted. "Betcha he was a Marine." Nodding at the pair he watched as they approached.

"Beautiful day we've got." Rossi leaned on the rail of the ferry non-chalantly as his companion continued to scan the area. "We haven't spoken in a while, Houston. How are you?"

"Pretty good. Yourself?" He took a step closer and another sip of coffee.

"Good. I wasn't aware that you were bringing a friend along."

"I wasn't either until last night. David Rossi, meet Chuck Wylie – Harris County Sherrif's Office. He's also been my friend since we were five years old." The pair shook hands.

"This is my associate: Derek Morgan." The younger agent didn't offer his hand but nodded gravely. "So Alex tells me you need a little help with a missing persons case from 2005."

"I could use it." The ferry cast off and began the trip across the Mississippi River toward the Algiers section of the city.

"I've arranged to have the information sent to you but I can give you a brief version of it now if you like."

"Alright." Matt continued to sip.

"Rachel Devereux was working for us. The field office here is located..."

"Right next door to her school." The PI finished the agent's sentence.

Rossi chuckled. "Uh huh. One of our agents had been asked to speak to some of the classes; the questions Rachel asked after his presentation were impressive and she stood out in his mind when the request came through. She accepted the offer immediately." He watched as Houston shifted the coffee cup to his left hand and began flexing his right fist and rotating his wrist.

Morgan was now leaning with his back against the rail seemingly watching a pair of ladies who were most definitely watching him. He had yet to speak.

"We had suspected the owners of the club of being involved in the trade due to some family connections that you're aware of now." Rossi continued as the PI nodded. "I understand that you had a slight brush with some of his operations back in January."

"Kind of – and he had a slight taste of my wife's computer skills, too." A sly smile crossed his features and Morgan looked at him, his expression not a happy one.

"I've got a feeling she would get along well with one of our friends. What do you think, Derek?" The other agent shrugged, clearly not feeling the cameraderie that the older agent felt. Jerking his head in Morgan's direction the older man continued. "He's just shy." Rossi gave a chuckle as Morgan tilted his head at him in a bit of attitude. "Anyway, Rachel was beginning to make some progress and then right before Katrina hit we lost contact with her."

"So y'all don't really have a clue where she could be either." Disappointment was clearly conveyed by the PI's voice.

"You know how bad it was down here then. It took a while before normal operations could resume."

"Not to sound like a jerk, but did anybody try looking back then?"

"They did. Eventually, though..." He shrugged.

"It got put on the back burner."

"Bad as I hate to say it, yes." He watched as the PI finished the coffee and tossed the cup into a garbage can about ten feet away. "Not bad for a right handed guy. Heard you had some excitement yesterday. How's the arm?"

"I'll live." Looking out over the water Matt spoke again. "You didn't have to help me out but I'm grateful."

"How grateful?" Rossi and Houston exchanged a smile. "We could use a little help with this task force. I've been authorized to ask for it."

"I, uh..." Matt shook his head. "I've been down the road with Uncle Sam before. Still help out a few folks on occasion but I'm going to be totally honest with you; sometimes my work methods aren't necessarily looked upon favorably. I tend to like to call my own shots."

"It wouldn't be a full-time gig. More like how you've helped out the others. But I do know that you would have a particularly strong reason to want to help out on this." Houston's expression changed and the relaxed demeanor disappeared along with it. "Think of how much good you could do – and after what you found at Deerfield's home in LA you know that there are a lot of kids who need help." Rossi knew he had struck a nerve. As he looked out over the Mississippi the younger man swallowed hard and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he nodded. "But do something that my ex-wives should have done: think about it carefully, hey?" Smiling, he handed over one of his cards which the PI accepted, handing back one of his own.

Taking a deep breath and changing the subject, Rossi looked around smiling. "I haven't been down here in quite a while. There's a little cafe not too far from the landing that has some of the best po' boys going."

"Giuseppe's." Houston smiled. "I could go for one about now. What do you say – my treat?"

"Works for me. Now I've got a few questions for you. In Volume Four of "Alien Armory", up in level 18..." The pair walked toward the stern of the boat, leaving their companions to their own devices as they talked about the video games that Houston had helped to create.

Once inside the 24-hour cafe, the men were seated and placed their orders. A couple of minutes later Matt's phone rang. "Hey there."

"There's a little girl here who wants to talk to her daddy. Is it a bad time?"

"No, it's fine." He waited while CJ put the phone on speaker.

"Daddy?"

"Hey there, Lady Bug." Chuck watched as his friend's face lit up and Rossi chuckled as the PI began a conversation with his daughter that had him in stitches for most of the time. He ended the call as their orders were brought to them. "Sorry 'bout that. I haven't talked to her today."

"How old is she?" Rossi cut the sandwich in half and began devouring it.

"Almost two."

They chatted over the meal, Morgan not saying more than a few words but Houston, Chuck, and Rossi talking as if they had known each other forever. When it was done, they went back to the ferry landing and rode back across. Just before docking, Rossi spoke to the PI once more. "We would really appreciate your help."

"I'll think about it...and talk to my wife. You do understand we work as a team. If you want me, you're going to be dealing with her as well."

"Hmmm...interesting concept. Maybe that's why my marriages never lasted." With that the agents walked away and were among the first to disembark. Matt and Chuck took their time and as they approached Canal Street they were met by a young woman.

"Mr. Houston?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Rossi sends his regards." With a smile, she handed him a flash drive and walked away.

"Ya know..." Chuck shook his head as his companion tucked the device into his pocket. "Us good ole boys down at the sheriff's office don't get a lot of this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Trust me – this isn't cloak and dagger." Houston was keeping a good lookout around them as they headed north. "So now we head up to the prison."

"What do you think CJ will say about the offer?"

Shrugging, the cowboy walked on. "Don't know for sure, but she'll probably want to go for it."

"What about you?"

"Don't know."

After picking up the truck and the laptop at the hotel the friends started out for the prison, Matt calling CJ and alerting her to the fact that he was sending her the information while Chuck drove. As he waited for the computer to boot up, he told her about the offer. There was silence at first. "So what did you tell him, hon?" She leaned back on the porch swing and gently put Mike up on her shoulder to burp him.

"That I would think about it. I also warned him that we're a package."

"What makes you think they would want me?" The surprise in her voice was clear.

"What's not to want?" He grinned.

"Uh huh. Well, we'll talk about it later. As soon as I get the boys down for their nap I'll look at the file."

"Okay. Just wanted to give you a heads up. So is everybody okay there?"

"Just fine. Catey kind of misses the guys not staying in the main house, though."

"She just likes all the extra attention." Matt chuckled. "I'll talk to you later, Babe. Love you."

"You too, Cowboy." As she hung up, CJ sighed. Madre Rosa had mentioned his retiring more than once during their stay and the more they were around, the more CJ found herself thinking that it would be nice. Wandering back into the house and upstairs where Sheila was changing Vinnie with the help and supervision of Catey Rose, she thought about how Matt had tried to take time off when she had been pregnant with their daughter. Eventually he realized that he just wasn't ready to quit but he was looking toward the future and retirement. Knowing how stubborn he was and how hard of a decision it would be for him, she wasn't going to press the issue with him. Houston had always wanted to help people, even as a child. That much hadn't changed and she seriously doubted that it ever would. Marriage to him meant accepting the fact that sometimes he ended up in harm's way, something that she had known from the start, and something that other women over the years had tried to change – unsuccessfully. Gently fastening the closures on the diaper she put Mike down in his crib as he yawned, his sleepy eyes looking up into hers as a small crooked grin crossed his face in perfect imitation of his daddy. Giving him a kiss on the cheek and then one to Vinnie, she walked out of the nursery to tuck Catey in for her nap as well, and then she went down to the study to look at the files.

Matt began looking through the records on the flash drive. The FBI's investigation into Bun, LLC had started with a tip from a confidential informant that had been given the code name of Hibiscus. She worked at the club and had overheard a questionable conversation between Margot Perrier and her brother Yvon. Passing the information on to her contact at the Bureau, she had been their first person on the inside of the operation. Unfortunately she had been found floating in Bayou Verret near Lake Catouatchie southwest of New Orleans just three weeks after making contact with the bureau.

Further reading told him a little bit more about Margot Perrier. She had moved from Quebec at the age of nineteen and relocated, first to Buffalo, New York and then to Seattle. It was there that she opened three strip clubs. In 2001 she had moved to New Orleans and a few months later in 2002, had gone into business with Duane Sachs and Robert Tremble. The information on the two partners didn't give him any further information than he had already found...until he neared the last of what had been compiled on Tremble and found that he owned several parcels of land, most of which were within New Orleans. The only exception was one property that piqued his interest. He discovered that it was in Slidell, Louisiana. According to the information available about the property there were no improvements on it at all – it was an empty lot. Everything else that the man owned was either business or residential and had buildings on it. "That's kinda strange..."

"What's that?" Chuck glanced over at the computer.

"This guy – Tremble..." He looked out the window for a minute thinking. "He's got quite a bit of property in New Orleans."

"Yeah, so?"

"So he's got one piece of property in Slidell."

"And...?"

"Everything in New Orleans aside from his house is either commercial buildings or residential for rent."

"Your point being what exactly?"

"The other is just a vacant lot."

"Maybe he just hasn't built anything on it yet."

"He's had it for over ten years."

"Could be he's waiting for the value to increase."

"Or it could be it's convenient. There aren't any houses close to it." Matt looked at his friend.

The deputy thought it over. "That's close to Mississippi, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure but I feel a trip to the east coming on."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

"I don't know who in the hell you are and I really don't care. Just talk. I'm glad to get outta there for a while." The woman sitting across from Matt looked older than her thirty one years, wrinkles beginning to show already on her mocha colored face and the pale blue inmate shirt that she wore hanging loosely on her.

"My name's Matt Houston. I'm a private investigator." He handed across one of his cards as a guard looked on.

"Okay."

"I'm working for Rachel Devereux's parents. She went missing about the time that Katrina hit."

"I heard that." Looking down at her shackled hands her voice lowered to hardly more than a whisper. "Rachel was the only person who tried to help me back then. She was..." Tears came to her eyes. "She was the sweetest person I've ever known."

"Some folks have told me that she was trying to get your bail lowered to get you out of jail before the hurricane made landfall."

"She tried but they wouldn't budge on it. They let me talk to her for just a minute at the hearing. She had bought my grandmother a bus ticket out of town and just seen her off before she came to court." The tears began falling and Matt started to hand across a bandana to her. "No – they won't let me take that – gang colors can get you killed in here. But thanks."

"Can we get her some tissues or something?" He looked to the male guard who hesitated for a minute before stepping out of the room and coming back with a couple of tissues. "Did she make it out okay – your grandmother?"

"Uh huh. She's in a nursing home in Hattiesburg now. Got Alzheimer's. My uncle says she..." Shaking her head she wiped away tears again. "Grandma doesn't know who he is anymore. She won't be around much longer. I just feel bad because he's having to take care of everything on his own. I should be there to help out."

"I'm sorry." Matt paused to give her a chance to regain her composure.

"But that isn't why you're here." Clearing her throat she went on. "Like I said, the last time I saw Rachel was in the courtroom."

"What do you know about the folks where she was working?"

"At the strip club?"

"Uh huh."

Shrugging she folded the tissue. "It was just another joint as far as I know. She was making good money."

"Did she ever mention having a problem with anyone there?"

"No...just some of the customers getting grabby."

"But nothing about the owners?"

"No." She studied the man across from her for a minute. "Why?"

"We think they might have had something to do with her disappearance."

"Why would they?"

"I can't really tell you about that." He saw the hurt look on her face. "Let's just say the less you know the safer you are, okay?"

Nodding, she fiddled with the tissue. "I wish I knew something else to tell you."

"Do you have phone priveledges?"

"Some – I have to be careful with the money on my books."

"If I put some on there would you give me a call if you think of something else?"

"I would do anything for Rachel."

"Alright." He thought for a minute. "So when did you get locked up again?"

"About two years ago. I tried to get away from dealing but when you need money you do what you have to do."

"How much longer do you have?"

"About eighteen months."

"What are your plans?"

"I'm working on getting a degree in Horticulture and Landscaping – a lot of folks have fancy gardens and courtyards around New Orleans."

"Sounds like a good idea. Do you need anything?"

"Just to get out of here and stay out."

"What's your grandmother's name?" He pulled out a pen and jotted down the information. "Thanks for your help."

"I don't think I helped much."

"But you did try and Rachel's parents will appreciate that."

Fifteen minutes later he returned to the truck after putting some money on Patterson's account. Chuck handed him his cell phone. "CJ called – she thought the other property was interesting, too. She said to be careful."

"As always."

"So did you get anything useful?"

"No, but she told me what she knew." He shrugged. "I guess let's head to Slidell if you want."

"Yes sir, Mr. Houston, sir." Chuck ducked as the PI swatted at him and they began the trip back to I-10 and went east toward Mississippi.

Matt pulled out the computer and looked up the nursing home where Patterson's grandmother was a resident before calling CJ. "Hey, Lil Mama. Whatcha doin'?"

"I've been doing a little more research into that property that you found. The only thing near it is a cemetery."

"Hmmm...okay. We're going there now. I've about run out of leads. Yolanda didn't know anything."

"I've scoured the records that you got but I don't see any other angles to work."

"Well, I've got something I want you to do for me if you can." He went on to explain about Patterson's grandmother and asked her to make contact with the uncle. "If Mrs. Patterson needs anything I want it taken care of, alright?"

"Sure thing, hon. You two just watch each other's backs out there okay?"

"We will. Talk to you later. Love you."

"You, too. 'Bye." As she hung up the thought she had earlier about her husband wanting to help people went through her mind once again. Although Mrs. Patterson was too far gone to know it, she had just acquired a guardian angel who was going to see to it that she was as comfortable as possible for the rest of what remained of her life.

Back in Louisiana, Matt was studying the area that they were going to more closely. "I've got good news and bad news."

Chuck looked warily over at his friend. "What's the bad news?"

"We're gonna need a good jon boat."

"What's the good news?"

"I just found one for sale and a good place to launch that isn't very far from where we're going."

"This just keeps getting better and better." The deputy rolled his eyes and laughed. "I didn't sign up to go to Slidell; my old lady sent me to New Orleans ya know."

"I can drop you off if you like."

"Nope. If anything happened to you I'd never hear the end of it." Both men cracked up.

"Look on the bright side."

"There's a bright side?"

"Yep. I might find a place where even _you_ can catch a fish."

"Shut up." Wylie shook his head as Matt pulled out his phone and called about the boat. A few minutes later he hung up.

"Sounds like a fairly decent one and looks pretty good from the pictures. As long as it will get us in and out of there I don't really care."

"Hope it's got a good engine on it."

"If it doesn't I guess you get to paddle."

"What about you?"

"I'm injured, remember? You said I was disadvantaged."

"If you get me stuck in a swamp you'll be injured for sure. I don't like gators."

"What are you complaining about? If you like the boat you can have it when we get done."

"You're kidding. You don't want it?"

"I don't need it – I've got one, remember? Merry Christmas a little early."

"Thanks." Both men cracked up again and then were quiet for a few minutes. "So...what exactly are we looking for when we get there?"

"I don't know. There's got to be something going on there, though. Why else would he have the property? It isn't going to make him any money. He can't build on it – or at least it wouldn't be smart. It's situated between two forks of the Pearl River – it's bound to flood from time to time. And from what I can see of it, it looks like mostly swamp. Why on earth anybody ever put a cemetery out there is beyond me."

"A cemetery? You didn't say anything about a cemetery."

"Well, CJ did. There's one on the adjacent property. Although, stop and think about it: rivers can change their course over time. Could be when the cemetery was started it didn't flood so much."

For a few minutes both were quiet and then it dawned on them at the same time and they spoke together. "Katrina may have flooded it." They exchanged a look and the PI opened up the laptop once again and began searching through records of damage after the storm. "I can't find anything that specifically says that it flooded but since there aren't any homes right there I doubt if anyone was too worried about it. They had enough to worry about then."

Quiet resumed again until Chuck started to ask a question and then stopped, but Matt had seen him. "What?"

"I...never mind."

"No, what is it?" Houston turned slightly in the seat.

"That Rossi guy..." He stopped, slightly afraid to say what he was thinking. "He knew about what happened to you." Matt sat in shock for a minute; he had no idea that Chuck knew about the abuse that he had endured during the kidnapping when he was five years old. He had never told him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No...I just...I didn't know that you knew." During their thirty years of friendship not once had Chuck ever said a word about it. "When did you find out?"

"When we were about eight. You were having a nightmare one time when I was spending the night. Your dad told me after you went back to sleep – well, sort of. He didn't go into detail, but as I got older I figured it out. Plus...well, I do work for the Sheriff's Department." He shrugged. "I'm sorry." Looking over at his best friend he saw the muscles in his jaw working, just as they had when Rossi had mentioned it earlier in the day. Finally Matt spoke again.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Chuck. Daddy knew that you could be trusted or he wouldn't have said a word. I just..." He shrugged and looked out the passenger side window. "I didn't figure there was any point in it."

"But you did tell CJ."

"I..." Matt stopped for a minute. "She found out about a year after we met. I guess I should have had the guts to tell you, too, but I thought..."

"I understand. Boys that age can be stupid and say things. But you knew you could trust CJ for sure. Don't worry about it."

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you, too, Chuck. I just...I didn't want you to think I was..."

"Shut up." It was said in the same playful manner that they two always used and both men began chuckling again. "The way you chased every skirt in town, do you really think I would have ever thought that?"

"I don't know. I was always afraid." Matt was serious once again.

"You wasted your time, you know. You should have only been chasing after the one – and she would have let you catch her sooner if you had just tried." The deputy looked over at Matt again. "But that was part of it, wasn't it? She knew."

"Yeah." Blowing out a big breath the PI shook his head. "I wasted a lot of years being afraid."

"Well you're sure as hell making up for it now, aren't you? Four kids in about two years of marriage. Although you did kind of cheat on it. Mine were just born one at a time and I didn't adopt any. So are you two planning any more?"

"We haven't really talked about it since the boys were born, but who knows? We've got plenty of room for 'em and plenty of love to go around. We'll just have to wait and see."

"You're just trying to keep up with Lisa and me, that's what it is. You're gonna hit the magic number of five kids and call it quits."

"Maybe...or maybe we'll go for six just to mess with you."

"Dear Lord, help the planet. Do you have any idea of what kids start doing when they're two and up? It can be a living hell, pard."

"Oh, you mean like flooding the bathroom by stopping up the toilet? We've already got that going on."

"Hah hahhhh!" The deputy hit the steering wheel as he laughed. "Finally, you're getting a taste of reality."

"Cute, Chuck. It isn't _that_ bad."

"That's just 'cause she's Daddy's little girl and has got you wrapped around her pinky."

The two contined to carry on until they reached the address where the boat dealer was waiting on them. After an inspection of the boat, Matt paid the man and they took off up Davis Landing and then took the left fork onto Boat Launch Road, coming to the end of the gravel road. No other vehicles were there and they launched, both men donning bullet proof vests just in case. "You gonna be able to shoot lefty if you have to?" Chuck fastened the Velcro closures on his vest and checked his pistol.

"Yeah."

"Ever done it before?"

"Uh huh." Matt didn't seem to want to talk about it and his friend didn't pry as the PI tossed him a rifle that had been behind the backseat of the truck. "There's a gator gun for ya...just in case."

"Mmm...hope we don't need it." They launched, started the engine, and headed east to where the backwater met the West Pearl River. Turning northward they followed along, Matt checking the GPS coordinates he had on his phone as they went.

"It's about two miles up this way. From what I saw on the map we ought to be able to find a place to tie up. We'll have to hoof it part of the way – maybe two hundred yards." It wasn't long until they got near the property and found a decent area to secure the boat and go ashore. Checking the coordinates again, Houston started through the rough terrain, careful to keep an eye out for not only animals that might be likely to bite but also wary of unstable areas of loose soil and vegetation. Both men had picked up a telescoping boat hook and brought them along to aid in finding a safe path. After several stops along their winding way to check the GPS coordinates, they finally came to a small clearing. "There it is." Matt pointed out the cemetery. "Tremble's property starts just to the right of that." They cautiously moved in and began searching the through the weeds, Chuck letting out with a string of colorful words when he disturbed a snake who after hissing his disapproval of the invasion, slithered off quickly. As Matt tried to conceal his snickers over the deputy's grumbling, the two continued to search the small parcel of land, neither one finding anything of interest.

"Do you reckon he was drunk when he bought it?" Chuck swatted at a cloud of gnats that seemed to want to carry him off.

"Don't know." Houston walked toward the cemetery.

"We're not going in there are we?"

"Don't think we'll bother anybody, do you? Besides..." He went further into the area. "I bet they won't call the cops on us." The grumbling reply left him just shaking his head. "It's sure enough been flooded before." Marks were visible on the outsides of some of the mausoleums that themselves were almost completely overgrown with brush.

"Kind of sad seeing something like this." Chuck looked around him.

"I don't know – it's peaceful. No loud neighbors." Matt made his way around to the front of one of the mausoleums. "Chuck..." He waved his friend over. "This one is open."

"You aren't really gonna go in...well, hell. I guess you are." Giving a shiver of disgust he looked around before following his friend inside to find him squatting next to what was left of two bodies. "Guess they washed out..."

"No. The last burial here was in 1912." There was no trace of humor in Matt's voice now, just sadness. "These two haven't been here that long, Chuck." Shining his light on the neck area of one of the remains he dropped his head. Pulling out his phone once again along with the card that he had received from SSA David Rossi that very morning he called the cell number. "Agent Rossi – Matt Houston. I think we found our girl."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

The wait for the agents from the New Orleans field office of the FBI seemed to take forever, but as he waited Matt tried to figure out just how to tell Ben and Marcy Devereux that the search was over and that their daughter was never coming back to them. The fire that he and Chuck had started flickered to life as did the PI's anger as he wondered what exactly had happened to blow Rachel's cover. From what he had seen it looked like her hyoid bone was broken – a sign of strangulation. He had been able to see that when he picked up the medallion and cross necklace that was still around the neck of what was left of the body.

"I wonder who the other one is?" Chuck's voice seemed loud in the semi-darkness.

"I don't know. The other girl that they had undercover was found to the southwest of New Orleans – we know it isn't her." The disgust and sadness carried in his voice was unmistakable.

"At least they'll know now." The deputy looked at his friend who was staring into the fire. The reply was a nod.

"I was sure hoping..." The PI shook his head. "But like CJ said, sometimes you just can't make everything right."

"You found her, man."

"We found her."

"No, you and your hunch about the property were what found her. I just played chauffeur." He gave Matt a sad smile. "You know as bad as this sucks..." He motioned over his shoulder to the mausoleum. "It was good to be able to work with you again." Watching as Houston continued to stare into the fire, he spoke again. "Sheriff Martinez is sure hoping you'll decide to just move on back to Houston."

"Bud, I've already told her that when I do, it won't be to work for the Sheriff's Department. I'll be retired when I come back."

"Well, you could still help out some."

"And then I would end up getting drug back into..." Houston didn't finish.

"You always said you wanted to help people."

"Yeah, I know."

It was completely dark by the time agents got to the scene and both Chuck and Matt were surprised to see Rossi and Morgan among them. Standing to greet them, Matt held out his hand to the older man. "Didn't think you would still be around."

"We decided to spend the night. Just didn't plan on spending it out here. Want to show me where she is?"

Nodding, Matt led the group over to the mausoleum. "Rachel is the one with the necklace." He watched as the agent knelt down and looked at it.

"_Je ne regrette rien." _I regret nothing." Standing back up, Rossi left the mausoleum to the agents who would process it and moved back outside with the others. "She would have made one hell of an agent."

"Agent Rossi..." The female agent who had handed off the flash drive to Matt that morning approached the group. "The body with the necklace is definitely Rachel Devereux. We just matched the dental records." She indicated the tablet in her hands.

"Thank you." He turned to look at Houston who had turned away from the others and went back toward the fire, staring at it and looking for the right words to break the news to the Devereuxs.

The boat ride back to the launch area was subdued. Although he had told people of the death of loved ones before, it was something that never got easier. Now that he had kids of his own he couldn't even imagine the pain that the couple had already been through not knowing if Rachel was dead or alive. "I hope I never live to find out."

"What?" Chuck looked over at Matt.

"Nothing...just thinking outloud." After loading the boat on the trailer the pair began the drive to New Orleans. The two bodies were being taken to the Coroner's Office and due to the late hour, Rossi and Houston had decided that it would be best to notify Rachel's family the next day.

Back at the hotel Matt stared off into space as Chuck went about re-packing the bullet wound on his friend's arm after which he pulled out his phone and called CJ. "Hey..."

She knew by the sound of his voice that something was wrong. "Hi...are you okay?"

"Yeah." He paused. "We found her – what's left of her."

"That was quick. Are you sure?"

"She was still wearing the necklace that Denny Ferraro told me about and they matched the dental records. Looked like she had been strangled to me."

"I'm sorry you had to find her like that but I'm glad that Ben and Marcy will be able to put it to rest now." There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hon, it had been nine years."

"I know." He leaned back and took a long swallow of the beer that Chuck handed him before plopping down on the couch.

"How's the arm?"

"Truthfully...pounding. But Chuck just repacked it."

"Take a shower, take a pain pill, and go to bed."

"I will after I finish this beer. My new doc prescribed it." He gave Chuck a grin and the two clanked the bottles together. "Guess we'll head back that way in the morning. I wanted to tell them face to face. Something like that shouldn't be done over the phone."

"I agree."

"How are the kids?"

"Asleep. And there haven't been any more overflowing toilets."

"That's good news. Chuck thought it was hilarious."

"It is kind of funny – until you have to clean it up."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Well, I'll get off of here and let you get some sleep. See you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you, too. 'Bye." She hung up and turned out the lamp next to the bed.

The next afternoon Matt and Chuck parked behind the house in Houston and were greeted by Tilly first and then CJ. After a big hug the PI asked if the Devereuxs were around.

"They're doing some measuring on the other property." CJ put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we should ask them to come back here – at least that way they can sit down and be comfortable. Want me to call them?"

"If you don't mind..."

As the couple exited Ben's truck, Matt felt his stomach tie up in knots. They mounted the steps hand in hand and as he opened the screen door for them Marcy took one look at his face and burst into tears. "She's dead isn't she?" Nodding, the PI found himself unable to speak for a moment as husband and wife fell apart in each other's arms. With CJ's help he managed to get them into the kitchen and seated at the table. In a few minutes they calmed down enough to take a sip of the tea that CJ had poured for them.

"The FBI identified her by her dental records." Reaching across the table he took Marcy's hand. "Rachel was working undercover for them at the strip club. That's why she took the job."

"Oh, my God!" Ben broke down again. "And the way I got on to her..."

"She evidently was going to tell you when she came home. According to Denny Ferraro it was eating at her but she was doing it for a good cause – to help kids who were being exploited by pornographers."

"Oh..." Marcy was wiping her eyes once again and the couple joined hands. "She loved kids."

"I know – she was volunteering at a center that helped inner city kids in New Orleans. I've got something that belonged to her...it was still on her when we found her." Pulling a plastic bag from his shirt pocket, the PI slid it across the table. "Thought you might like to have it."

The pair nodded as they looked at the words on the medallion. Finally Ben spoke. "That was something that she learned in her first year French class. Kind of her philosophy. Do you know who did it?"

"Not yet, but we're still working on it. The FBI was looking for her after Katrina but...well, there was so much going on and when they hit a brick wall they had other cases that had to be worked, too." He saw the angry look on both of their faces. "But..." He paused and looked to CJ who nodded, knowing exactly what he was about to say. "It isn't over yet. We still need to identify the other person that was found with her and maybe that will be another piece of the puzzle."

"But they won't let you keep working on it, will they? I mean – if she was working for them it would be their case wouldn't it?"

"It is – but they've asked for CJ and me to join their task force that's been set up to handle child exploitation cases. That's what Rachel was helping them with."

"Good." Ben squeezed his wife's hand. "I don't know those FBI folks, but it would be nice to know that somebody who actually cares was involved in taking down the lowlifes that Rachel was after."

"They care, Ben. There are some mighty good people working for them. As a matter of fact, the agent that asked me to join them is part of the BAU." He saw the question in their eyes. "It stands for Behavioral Analysis Unit. They are literally the best of the best."

"So that means that you – both of you – are, too." Marcy gave them a smile through the tears.

Later on after seeing the Devereuxs off, Matt went down to the barn and was in the process of saddling up one of the horses. His reason for the trip to Texas had been to help out with the cattle but over half of the work had been done already and he hadn't been involved in any of it. CJ followed him down, leaving the kids with Madre Rosa and Sheila. "Hey, Cowboy..."

"Hey..." He glanced up as she entered the barn, continuing to adjust the saddle until he felt her arms go around his waist.

"Turn around here." Looking up into the brown eyes that she loved so much, CJ could see the struggle that was going on inside of him. "Having a hard time deciding?" He nodded.

"CJ..." He looked up at the rafters overhead. "I want to help the task force but...it makes me feel like I'm letting y'all down if I do – at least in a way."

"You wouldn't be letting us down. Surely you know that."

"I had planned on being around more. I mean look at it: there's Michael and Rich that I help out now; I've still got to take one more class for the Fire Marshal's gig; and then there's the ATF, DEA, not to mention Derwin..." Sighing he shook his head and nodded in the direction of the house. "And then there's Madre Rosa after me to quit." He looked down into her eyes.

"She worries about you."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed." He gave a chuckle. "Oh, and I left out Sheriff Martinez and Chuck, too."

"You're cursed with being good at what you do." CJ gave him a smile. "Look, you aren't letting any of us down. We'll support you whatever decision you make." After a kiss she stroked his cheek. "And by the way – I know you've already decided to help them."

"You do, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"And how is that?" He had pretty well made up his mind but still had a few lingering doubts.

"Because you're the good guy. You may not always wear the white hat..." She tilted back the white straw cowboy hat on his head and gave him a scorching kiss. "But you're always the good guy."


End file.
